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<title>Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright: The Frigid Melody by RainyMeadows</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23754307">Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright: The Frigid Melody</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyMeadows/pseuds/RainyMeadows'>RainyMeadows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series, Layton Kyouju vs Gyakuten Saiban | Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Confused Phoenix Wright, Disbarred Phoenix Wright, Gen, Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney Spoilers, Layton Kyouju vs Gyakuten Saiban | Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Spoilers, Layton Kyouju | Professor Layton Spoilers, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian themes but no racism, Mystery, No Romance, Phoenix Wright is very sad, Supernatural Elements, Trucy Wright is a little shit, gothic horror</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:41:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>326,626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23754307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyMeadows/pseuds/RainyMeadows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter on a northbound train leads Professor Layton and his young friend Luke to once again team up with the hapless lawyer Phoenix Wright, now accompanied by his sweet little daughter Trucy. At first, the Professor's latest mystery seems like a straightforward missing persons case, but after arriving in the haunted village of Fatargan, Layton and Phoenix soon realise that if they ever hope to make it out of here, they'll have to understand the village, its people, and each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hershel Layton &amp; Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>346</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The art for the wonderful cover is by my good friend meldy-arts!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> To Professor Hershel Layton </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You don’t know me, but I can safely say that I know you pretty dang well by now. You’re probably wondering how that’s possible, but you’ll have to read all the way to the end of this letter if you want to find out. Got it? Good. As for who I am… if you do as I say, you won’t need to know. Now make sure you’re paying attention, because there’s a lot riding on this and I’m not about to repeat myself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You see, Mr Layton, I have a friend. A very good friend who’s helped me out of more than one tight spot, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’ve done the same for him every now and then (not that the ungrateful jerk ever thanks me for it). I love him a lot and the last thing I want is to lose him, but I’m worried that if someone doesn’t do something, that’s going to happen and there’s nothing I can do. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> See, last I heard from him, he was headed up to Scotland. Wouldn’t tell me why, just that it was too important for him to bring me or anyone else along and “let me cause yet more trouble” whatever that means. I’ve enclosed a map marked with the village he told me he was headed to and details on how it can be reached without risking driving like this idiot did. Be warned that the bus only goes up into the mountains every five days. Safety reasons, of course. The roads get pretty icy that far north. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’ve probably caught on by now that I want you to find this guy. I did my homework on you, Professor, and I know what you’ve been up to during the past half-decade or so. You’re one of the best investigators in Great Britain. Heck, maybe even one of the best in the world! Next to this friend of mine, of course. He’s pretty fantastic too. I’m sure that you’ll get to see that for yourself when you track him down and figure out what happened to him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> However, if you get it into your head that you don’t need to worry about this – that someone else can solve this particular mystery while you sit in your office drinking tea and listening to opera music or whatever it is posh English people do – then allow me to provide a little bit of incentive. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Does the name Misthallery ring a bell? Or perhaps Monte d’Or or Froenborg? How about Ambrosia? I know you must remember St. Mystere, Folsense and a certain cavern unofficially dubbed Future London. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m a thief, Mr Layton, and what I steal is information. As such, I’ve stolen information about every single one of those locations and your quite frankly intimate involvement with them. Information that I know for a fact you would prefer to remain secret. I’m sure we both know exactly what would happen, Mr Layton, if somebody were to pass this information on to the press or, even worse, leak it onto the Internet. There’s nothing social media loves more than a tasty little scandal and I have a feeling they would eat this up like hotcakes. How is little Ms Reinhold, by the way? Not having to deal with a creepy robot mother anymore, I hope. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So here’s the sitch if you were just skimming up to now: find the man I’ve enclosed details on in this envelope if you don’t want the entire world to find out what you’ve been up to and trying to keep secret, Mr Layton. You might call this blackmail, but if you haven’t noticed by now, I don’t really care about that. Even if my friend is dead, I want to know what happened to him. I don’t want to think that such an awesome person just vanished off the face of the earth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Track him down if you don’t want your reputation trashed, okay? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yours sincerely </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Great Thief Yatagarasu </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You know,” he muttered under his breath, “you haven’t exactly left me a great deal of choice.”</p><p>There wasn’t much left to do right now, so he cast another glance down at the card this so-called Great Thief had slipped into the envelope along with everything else:</p><p>
  <br/>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Quite frankly, with all the other items that had been haphazardly stuffed into the cheap business envelope, it may have been more efficient for this Great Thief to invest in a wax seal. Or perhaps an ink stamp somewhere on what little space remained around the bottom of the letter.</p><p>Admittedly that was a rather old-fashioned notion.</p><p>But then again, as his headwear indicated, Hershel Layton was a rather old-fashioned person.</p><p>The envelope he still held tempted him with its contents, but there was no way of telling how much time he had left to wait on this bench. Besides which, the north wind was blowing a light drizzle across the platform, so if he checked over this little dossier one last time, he’d only get a few sentences in before the paper was soaked to the point of uselessness.</p><p>There wasn’t much else he could do besides slip it back into his coat and wait.</p><p>He folded the letter up and pressed it back into the envelope beside all the other papers that had been crammed in with it and rested it with the card on his lap as he cast his eyes around the station.</p><p>Surely he didn’t have much longer to wait before he was allowed to board the train, did he? A nearby clock informed him that it was 7:12am and… Layton pulled his ticket out of his pocket and confirmed that yes, this train was due to depart at 7:15am, and forced back a yawn as he put it away for safety.</p><p>Somewhere on another platform, muffled by distance and the sleepiness clouding his mind, one of the newer train models gave a brief blast of its horn to tell those yet to board it that they were going to be late for work. From elsewhere came the rising whirs of an engine kicking into gear and another engine, one directly behind him, blew out a long hissing puff of steam that no doubt fluttered away into the drizzle.</p><p>Layton took a deep breath, trying to kick his mind into gear, and regretted it as his nostrils were filled with the stench of burning diesel and the hundreds of cups of coffee held by commuters all over the station.</p><p>From a speaker somewhere overhead came an announcement, muffled as all train station announcements tend to be but perfectly audible to those well-versed in the language of public transport tannoy systems:</p><p>
  <em> “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. The 7:15 express service to Aberdeen is now boarding on platform 7. I repeat; the 7:15 express service to Aberdeen is now boarding on platform 7. Thank you.” </em>
</p><p>That was it. He couldn’t wait any longer.</p><p>He pressed himself up to his feet and straightened his hat, and turned to find the nearest door that would let him onto the-</p><p>“Professor?”</p><p>There he was.</p><p>The voice was deeper, older, but unmistakable. Layton couldn’t avoid a soft gasp of surprise as he saw the teen standing not five metres away from him, one hand resting on the handle of his suitcase and the other adjusting the flat cap that sat atop his mop of dark blond hair.</p><p>The rest of the world faded into the distance as the boy’s eyes widened in delight, and Layton couldn’t suppress the gentle smile that crept onto his face.</p><p>“Hello, Luke.”</p><p>“Professor!” Luke took that as his cue to abandon his suitcase and dive forward to wrap his old friend in a hug so tight and heavy that he almost bowled the poor man over onto the concrete. “Professor! I can’t believe it’s actually you!”</p><p>“Neither can I,” Layton chuckled. “It’s certainly been too long, hasn’t it?”</p><p>“<em>Far </em> too long!” cried Luke, and he pressed himself out of the hug to look his old mentor in the face. “Wow, Professor. You haven’t changed a bit!”</p><p>“I certainly can’t say the same about you.” Layton gave his apprentice an affectionate pat on the head. “Would you just look at how much you’ve grown!”</p><p>The 15-year-old giggled and shrank, embarrassed, into his shoulders.</p><p>“Cut that out!” He continued smiling as he pushed Layton’s hand away. “You say that, but I’m the shortest person in my class! One of the shortest in my whole school!”</p><p>“Are you now?” Layton tried to avoid laughing again; the world may have changed and time marched on, but Luke Triton being small for his age was forever. “You’re going to have to tell me all about this school of yours once we get on board.”</p><p>“Oh!” Luke seemed to suddenly remember where they were, and he darted back to snatch up his suitcase. “Yes!” he gasped. “Yes, of course! And you’ll have to tell me about this latest mystery you’ve been enlisted to solve!”</p><p>Layton glanced down at the envelope he still clutched, now somehow more crumpled than it had been when it had first arrived at his office.</p><p>“Well, I wouldn’t quite say I was ‘enlisted’ to solve a mystery,” he said, and decided against trying to fit that card back into the mess of tightly packed papers. “Quite frankly, it’s more accurate to say this is a situation I was blackmailed into.”</p><p>“Blackmailed?!” Luke almost dropped his suitcase again in shock. “Who on earth would think they could get away with blackmailing <em> Professor Layton?!</em>”</p><p>Layton slipped the card into his coat’s pocket for safekeeping.</p><p>“It’ll be easier to explain once we’re on board,” he decided. “Come along then, Luke. We don’t want to be left behind, do we?”</p><p>“Right you are, Professor!”</p><p>Enthusiastic as he ever had been, Luke seized the handle of Layton’s suitcase and towed it onto the train, and Layton hurried after him to make sure he didn’t break his back trying to haul it over the gap and onto the carriage.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Right, let’s go down the list one last time just to be sure.”</p><p>“Okay, Daddy!”</p><p>“Winter clothes?”</p><p>“Check!”</p><p>“Mr Hat polish?”</p><p>“Check!”</p><p>“Spare cards, wand and handkerchiefs?”</p><p>“Check, check and check!”</p><p>“Toothbrush?”</p><p>No reply.</p><p>Phoenix Wright halted in his tracks and looked down at the little girl rummaging through her bag.</p><p>“<em>Toothbrush?</em>” he repeated as pointedly as he could.</p><p>His young daughter paused in her rifling and lowered her bag, looking up at him from under her hat with the biggest and saddest blue eyes she could possibly manage.</p><p>“Daddy,” she whined, “I think I left my toothbrush back in our last motel.”</p><p>Phoenix forced down a groan that tried to fight its way out of his throat.</p><p>“You can’t find it anywhere?” he asked. “You’re sure you aren’t just saying that to get out of having to brush your teeth?”</p><p>“No, I’m not!” Trucy insisted. “I can’t find it anywhere! I-I had it this morning before we left, but we were in a hurry to get here in time for the train and…”</p><p>She hugged her luggage to her chest.</p><p>“…and I guess I just forgot it in the bathroom,” she said. “I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear!”</p><p>“Hey, hey!” Phoenix kneeled down and checked that she wasn’t crying. “I’m not angry, I promise! You can use my spare, okay?”</p><p>Trucy wiped her eyes with a sniff.</p><p>“You have a spare?” she asked.</p><p>Phoenix dragged his own suitcase closer and rummaged through its contents until he found what he was after: a cheap toothbrush, still in its thin plastic packaging, that he’d bought from the convenience store the day before they’d departed for their grand tour of the United Kingdom.</p><p>“It was either a package of two or a package of six,” he explained, “and unless you lose this one too, we don’t need <em> six </em> toothbrushes, do we? So here.”</p><p>He held it out for his daughter to take.</p><p>“Make sure you don’t lose this one,” he told her, “or else you’ll end up rubbing toothpaste on your teeth with your finger and <em> nobody </em> wants to do that.”</p><p>To his relief, Trucy giggled and accepted the unused toothbrush.</p><p>“Thank you, Daddy,” she said. “I’ll make sure I keep an eye on this one.”</p><p>“Promise?”</p><p>“Promise!”</p><p>Relieved that the crisis had been tearlessly averted, Phoenix straightened up and turned back to his list.</p><p>“Oh! Dad!”</p><p>“Hmm?” He looked back down at his still-rummaging daughter.</p><p>“I made something for you!” she told him. “Something for our vacation! I totally forgot about it until now, but I just found it again!”</p><p>“You <em> made </em> something for me?” Phoenix leaned down, trying to see inside her bag. “What did you make?”</p><p>Trucy looked back up at him, the sorrow in her eyes now replaced with cunning.</p><p>“How about I show you rather than telling you?” she asked. “Close your eyes.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Just do it! Or else it won’t be a surprise!”</p><p>“Okay…”</p><p>“But stay leaning down!”</p><p>“Okay, okay!” Phoenix closed his eyes and kneeled down so that he wasn’t sticking his butt out at everybody on the platform. “Go ahead, little magical girl. What did you make me?”</p><p>Whatever it was, he couldn’t tell by sound. The hissing steam and chatter of other passengers, commuters and conductors was drowning out any hints he might have gathered and he definitely wouldn’t be able to smell anything with all this steam and fumes filling his nose-</p><p>“Alaka-ZAM!”</p><p>“GYAH!” The force of something being yanked onto his head almost sent Phoenix toppling to the ground and, with his eyes still closed, he picked up the sound of Trucy laughing at his plight.</p><p>“Sorry!” she cried. “I think I did that harder than I meant to!”</p><p>“It’s fine, it’s fine…” Phoenix straightened up and pulled whatever-it-was up off his face, and he turned to view himself in the train’s window to see just what had been wrapped around his head.</p><p>It was, he quickly realised, a hat. It had been meticulously crocheted from vivid blue wool so soft that touching it left his fingers dry and smooth and, when he turned his head to one side to get a better look, he noticed the word <em> “Papa” </em>spelled out in massive lettering, stitched into the knitting in a deep and rich shade of pink.</p><p>He looked down at the little girl who’d shoved it onto his head. She was rocking back and forth on her heels, hands crossed in front of her as she awaited his verdict.</p><p>“You <em> made </em> this?” he asked to confirm. “This looks like it came from some high-end clothing store!”</p><p>“Nope!” Trucy piped up proudly. “I made it all myself! I’ve been working on it in all the time I get between school and my shows. Do you like it?”</p><p>Phoenix ran his hand over the hat, again admiring how soft the wool was, his fingers tracing over the knots and weaving his lovely little girl had put together to keep him warm.</p><p>What was a person usually supposed to say in response to such a lovely gift?</p><p>“You…” he said slowly. “…I hope you didn’t sacrifice your homework for this.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Daddy!” Trucy whined. “I always make sure to get my homework done! I just wanted to do this for you too! It didn’t feel fair that I have a hat and you don’t, so I figured I could make you one and, well…”</p><p>She looked up at him with the best puppy-dog eyes she could manage.</p><p>“Do you like it?” she asked again.</p><p>Phoenix checked himself again in the “mirror”.</p><p>Sure, the colour was <em> very </em> bright, but he’d be kidding himself if he tried to say he’d ever been in a position to criticise something for standing out.</p><p>In that respect, this hat was goddamn perfect.</p><p>He folded up the brim and tucked a few straggling locks of hair underneath, since he may as well make <em> some </em> kind of effort to look presentable.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” he said, “I <em> love </em> it.”</p><p>Trucy hugged her luggage with a gasp of delight.</p><p>“You did a fantastic job, Trucy,” said Phoenix, and he lifted her hat aside to ruffle her hair. “I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect piece of headwear.”</p><p>“Daddy, it’s just a hat!” Trucy pushed his hand away and straightened her own headwear, though it would have taken a disaster to shift the smile from her face.</p><p>“It’s a hat you <em> made yourself</em>,” Phoenix pointed out. “And it’s the softest thing I’ve ever gotten to wear on my head on top of just being generally awesome. So don’t blame me if I never take it off again.”</p><p>He kneeled down again as the little girl giggled and lifted up her hat so that he could look at her properly.</p><p>“I love it, sweetie,” he told her again. “Thank you.”</p><p>He could have sworn that he physically felt his heart grow warmer as he watched Trucy smile. This little girl could light up a room on wholesomeness alone if she tried, magic tricks be damned.</p><p>The stupor was only broken by the blowing of a nearby whistle and a shout of “All aboard!” that slammed into Phoenix like a bolt of lightning.</p><p>“Okay, let’s go!” He snatched up his suitcase as he straightened to his feet. “We got up THIS early for the train, there’s no way we’re going to miss it!”</p><p>“You got it, Daddy!” Trucy obediently and happily leapt across the threshold and onto the train, her father hot on her heels and determined not to be separated from his little girl.</p><p>As they made their way down the carriage’s corridor, searching for an empty compartment where they could sit and relax and practise a few tricks while the wintry English countryside rolled by, the train’s doors slid slowly into place and the engine purred into life.</p><p>With a steady rising whirr and a brief blast of its horn, the 7:15 to Aberdeen departed from platform 7 and soon left the mismatched architecture of the city of London behind.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The 7:15 to Aberdeen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Having failed to fit the letter back inside the envelope, Luke decided to read over the missing man’s dossier for a third time and left the other papers sitting beside his plate.</p><p>“…so this man disappeared in the Scottish mountains?” he asked.</p><p>He looked up for a response as his mentor rested his teacup in its saucer on the table between them.</p><p>“Supposedly his most recent report to the quote-unquote Outside World was a brief summary of his short-term plan,” Layton explained, and Luke scanned through the dossier again to find the relevant data. “He was to proceed to this somewhat isolated village, remain for only a few days and then leave, but a full fortnight passed after that and he failed to make contact with any of the people he was supposed to keep in touch with.”</p><p>Luke unfolded the map they had been provided with, muttering a quick thanks to the waiter who removed his plate and gave him room to spread it out.</p><p>It was a marbled pattern of grey and white, depicting terrain far too rough and rugged for any sensible person to call their home, but call it their home some people apparently had. Thin lines of roads were spread intermittently among the mountains and, in the centre of a rather unnecessary red circle drawn by the map’s provider, was a small settlement with a name listed above it:</p><p>
  <em> Fatargan </em>
</p><p>“It seems, therefore,” Layton continued, “that one of those people decided to take matters into their own hands.”</p><p>Luke tried to follow the one road that he could see leading to this Fatargan place, but it was so winding and thin that it made his eyes hurt. He decided that meant it wasn’t worth trying, so he folded up the map and rested it next to the mass of other papers.</p><p>“And they decided to blackmail a world-famous archaeologist into finding their friend,” he noted, and kept his voice low so that nobody else in the dining car would overhear. “I can understand their motivations, but the methods are questionable, to say the least!”</p><p>“From a person declaring themselves a Great Thief,” Layton replied as Luke poured himself a fresh glass of water, “I would hardly have expected any different. Not to worry, Luke; I’ve already contacted Scotland Yard to let them know they should tighten their security.”</p><p>“Good call, Professor,” said Luke. “Although from what I can tell…” He held up the letter. “…this person seems a little misguided on what being a ‘thief’ actually means.”</p><p>He opened the letter up to make sure he knew what he was talking about.</p><p>“Isn’t that term reserved for people who steal physical materials?” he asked. “Like an art thief or a jewellery thief, but even then, they don’t normally release their stolen goods to the public. This person seems more like a habitual whistleblower than a thief.”</p><p>Layton laughed as he reached for the stack of papers.</p><p>“Well, I suppose ‘Great Thief’ is simply a snappier title than ‘Great Whistleblower’,” he pointed out, and he started trying to fit all the documents back inside the envelope. “It’s easy to understand why they would use an alias, given the nature of what they do. If what they’ve discovered about our adventures is any indication, to expose themselves by name would immediately make them public enemy number one.”</p><p>“They didn’t actually <em> say </em> anything about these places though, did they?”</p><p>Luke passed the letter across the table to be stashed away for safekeeping.</p><p>“It was just a list of names!” he pointed out. “How do we know that isn’t all they found out? Professor, we could be playing right into their bluff!”</p><p>The Professor calmly slotted the letter back into the envelope, although he had to press it in a few times to make sure it fitted comfortably.</p><p>“It’s a good idea to assume a worst-case scenario, my boy,” he said. “Say I refused to follow this Yatagarasu’s instructions and it turned out they <em> had </em> found out the truth about St Mystere or the person responsible for…”</p><p>He trailed off, his expression wistful and downtrodden, before catching himself and clearing his throat to hide the momentary lapse.</p><p>“…for the Future London incident,” he finished.</p><p>It wouldn’t be a good idea to mention that slip of the Impeccable English Gentleman’s image, would it?</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Luke decided to say casually. “I see how that could end up being problematic.”</p><p>His eyes drifted to the envelope and he found himself thinking over the threats that had been made.</p><p>All those places he had visited with his friend, all those mysteries they had solved together, all those demons put to rest… what would happen if the world at large found out the truth about them all? He recalled the Professor’s reasoning for why St Mystere should remain secret well enough – poor Flora had been through so much by that point that to turn her into a spectacle would just be downright cruel – but what if someone discovered the vein of gas that had caused the downfall of Folsense? What if, god forbid, the true reason for the Prime Minister’s abduction was exposed?</p><p>And then there were all the adventures they’d had leading up to those select few. The bizarre and inexplicable Azran civilization that seemed to be intricately woven into the entire world’s history and the strange and over-dramatic ‘scientist’ who had pledged to unravel its mysteries…</p><p>Even after all the time that had passed since they had last seen him, Luke still found himself jumping in alarm every time he saw a person wearing a white mask.</p><p>How many people’s lives could be ruined if the truth about all these matters came to light?</p><p>It barely even bore thinking about…</p><p>It suddenly occurred to Luke that he’d been staring straight ahead while thinking, and he shook himself out of the stupor before he had a chance to fall asleep right there at the table. Any napping could be saved for when they returned to their compartment.</p><p>When his eyes fell upon the envelope again, he remembered one of the other little tidbits that had been brought up in its contents.</p><p>“How is Flora, anyway?” he asked.</p><p>To his relief, his old mentor gave him a fond smile.</p><p>“She’s very well, Luke,” he reported. “She’s settled into the new school term rather nicely and last I saw, she was very eager to see her friends again.”</p><p>He picked up the teapot to pour himself a fresh cup.</p><p>“We found a very nice little ammonite fossil on Thames Beach last week,” he continued, “and she took it to school with her to decorate her dorm room. Regarding <em> this </em> situation…” he tapped a finger on the envelope, “…you may be interested to know that when I showed her this letter, she all but <em> demanded </em>to stay behind while I ventured north.”</p><p>Luke let out a nervous laugh and tugged at the suddenly-very-hot scarf around his neck.</p><p>“With what she experienced during the adventures she joined us on, I can’t blame her,” he said. “She was probably worried some Scotsman would kidnap and impersonate one of us again!”</p><p>Thankfully the Professor laughed along with him.</p><p>“Indeed,” he said. “She was, however, very insistent that I regularly report in to her so that she knows neither of us have disappeared.”</p><p>He tapped on the envelope again.</p><p>“Like <em> this </em> unfortunate gentleman did.”</p><p>His eyes wandered across the table and Luke noticed that one of the documents had been left out: a postcard depicting a selection of photos of the village they were making their way to.</p><p>Fatargan’s buildings were constructed of stone brick, seemingly held together in equal measure by ancient cement and the hopes and dreams of the people living within. Thatched roofs with smoking stone chimneys, deciduous trees struggling to bud beside flourishing evergreens and a thick blanket of pristine snow completed the image of a cozy little village seemingly constructed purely for the sake of looking nice on a postcard.</p><p>It was hard to believe anything as serious as a person disappearing – especially one the dossier claimed to be as influential and important as this man – could happen in a village like this one.</p><p>“It looks like such a peaceful place,” Luke said, and checked that there was nothing written on the postcard’s back. “The sort of little village where everybody knows everybody else and nobody locks their doors at night. Seems like the cold climate is the only reason every building doesn’t have roses around the door.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be fooled if I were you, Luke,” Layton responded once he had sipped his tea. “You and I both know how prone such little villages are to hiding terrible secrets, don’t we?”</p><p>Luke nodded and glanced down at the postcard again.</p><p>That really was a <em> lot </em> of snow.</p><p>“I hate to say it,” he said, “but if the roads get as icy as this Yatagarasu suggests, there’s a chance their friend just drove off the road into a gorge or…” where was that village on the map again? “…since it’s in the Cairngorms, what if they fell off a cliff?”</p><p>“That’s what the Yatagarasu would like us to find out,” Layton reminded him, “although I must say that I rather hope we find this man alive.”</p><p>His gaze wandered to the window beside them, eyes glazing over as the rolling hills of England blurred past the train.</p><p>“The last thing I want is to have to report a man’s death to his loved ones again.”</p><p>Suddenly Luke felt very hot under the collar again.</p><p>He pressed himself up to his feet and tried to clear his throat.</p><p>“I, um…” He tried to keep the noise down as he pushed his chair in. “…I think I need to go to the bathroom. Toilet. Sorry, my brain’s still in America.”</p><p>The calm smile returned to the Professor’s face.</p><p>“That’s quite alright, Luke,” he said. “I can wait for you to get back.”</p><p>Luke responded with an awkward smile of his own and tried to remove himself from his mentor’s sight.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The problem with trains is that they never seem to have enough bathrooms on board. When they do, they seem to be far too spread out for the convenience they’re supposed to provide.</p><p>This one, for example, was all the way at the back of the train. Any further and it may have been in the freight car, buried amongst the luggage that was too large to fit in the passenger compartments.</p><p>Luke had been in the middle of considering this when he made to open the door, wiping his wet hands on his coat because the hand dryer was broken, but was shaken out of the thought when he heard voices just outside.</p><p>Instinct told him to stay put and wait until the way was clear and he stood, rooted to the floor, and peered through the crack of door that he’d just barely begun to open.</p><p>It was hard to make out the two figures, but their day-glow vests and pie-shaped hats implied them to be railway security officers, and they had chosen the freight car’s now opened doorway to share a conversation too hushed for the voices to be distinct.</p><p>“…could end up being a pretty big problem…”</p><p>“…think you were a bit hasty? This could ruin everything!”</p><p>“…better to talk inside…”</p><p>“…what if he wakes up? We might be…”</p><p>That was all Luke heard before the two strangers disappeared into the carriage and the door clicked shut behind them.</p><p>He eased the door open and tiptoed out into the little foyer separating the freight car from the passenger area. Somehow it didn’t seem like a good idea to make the normal amount of noise. He got the feeling he had encountered something not meant to be overheard by civilian ears or seen by civilian eyes.</p><p>What had those two been talking about?</p><p>Surely it couldn’t be anything terrible, could it? These were security officers! It was their job to keep people safe!</p><p>Luke shook that mess out of his head. It didn’t do anybody any good to think like that.</p><p>He left the little foyer and re-entered the passenger area, passing compartments where travelers were talking, reading, napping, watching the scenery rush past or playing card games to occupy themselves during the hours it would take to reach Aberdeen. It was almost hard to believe the journey could be so long; that they had departed at 7:15 in the morning and wouldn’t arrive until after lunchtime.</p><p>At least that gave Luke ample opportunity to make use of the dining car, he considered.</p><p>It wasn’t hard to find his way back to the table he was sharing with his old friend. That tall hat couldn’t be more distinctive if it tried.</p><p>He forced that conversation he’d overheard out of his mind. He didn’t want either of them to get distracted from the investigation they were <em> meant </em> to be conducting.</p><p>“I forgot how awful train bathrooms can be,” he commented as he sat back down. “Somebody had scrawled obscenities all over the mirror and the toilet had been left unflushed!”</p><p>“Ah, thank you for the warning.” Layton glanced up from the book he had been reading. “It may be prudent to ask to use the first-class carriage should the need arise again.”</p><p>“Good idea, Professor,” said Luke.</p><p>A patch of white on the cover of the Professor’s book caught his eye and he leaned forward, trying to make out the title despite the shadows hiding it.</p><p>No, it was no good. The damned thing was just too dark. All he could see was the blotch of white, which seemed to be in the shape of a stylised half-mask. The sight of it caused Luke’s heart to skip a beat.</p><p>“What are you reading?” he asked.</p><p>“Ah!” Layton closed the book over his finger and held it so that Luke could see the cover properly. “This, my dear boy, is The Phantom of the Opera. The original novel by Gaston Leroux.”</p><p>With the cover properly revealed, Luke could make out the title: <em> Le Fantôme de l'Opéra</em>. Given that the title was in French, it was very likely the text inside was as well. This was Professor Layton, after all. He could never resist a subtle way to show off.</p><p>“It’s a classic I’ve always been curious about,” the Professor explained as he lowered it to the table, “but I’ve never quite found the time or motivation to read it until now.”</p><p>“Oh, I’ve heard of that one!” Luke said cheerfully. “Isn’t it more famous as a…”</p><p>He trailed off when he realised he didn’t know anything about the story other than its title and that it involved music.</p><p>“…well, an opera?” he said. “At least, I think it’s an opera, I’m not sure…”</p><p>“Yes, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are people who have no idea this story originated as a novel,” Layton replied as he slipped a bookmark into the pages he had reached, “but I do believe there are a number of key differences between it and the famous musical.”</p><p>“I expect there have to be,” said Luke. “Like… um…”</p><p>It had suddenly become very warm again.</p><p>Layton seemed to have noticed his apprentice’s discomfort, as he eyed the boy with an amused little smile as he laid the novel down on the table.</p><p>“There’s no shame in not knowing the story, Luke,” he said happily. “Not all of us are as well-read in classical literature as we’d like to be.”</p><p>“That’s not it!” Luke insisted. “I know the story, I swear! I just… um…”</p><p>He tried to loosen his scarf again.</p><p>“…it’s been a while since I heard anything of it,” he lied, “so I might need a reminder of what it’s about…”</p><p>He could feel his face burning and fought back the urge to hide in his coat.</p><p>The Professor’s gentle smile was <em> not </em> helping. He knew, didn’t he? Knew that Luke was lying through his teeth.</p><p>“Of course, my boy,” he said, and cast admiring eyes down at the book. “The Phantom of the Opera is about a young opera singer named Christine Daae. She rises to fame and glory with the aid of a mysterious figure dwelling in the opera house whom all the world believes to be a ghost. A phantom, if you will.”</p><p>He looked back up at Luke with obvious expectation.</p><p>“The way you phrased that…” Luke raised a hand to his chin in thought. “He isn’t really a ghost, is he?”</p><p>“Think back on everything we’ve done together, Luke,” said Layton, and propped up the book on the table as if its cover could provide a clue. “Consider your experience with matters of this sort. What do you believe is the truth in this case?”</p><p>Luke found himself studying the cover, reading over the title and author’s name over and over again.</p><p>A mask, huh?</p><p>It <em> was </em> a clue, wasn’t it?</p><p>Hmm…</p><p>No, it couldn’t be that simple, could it? There had to be some kind of trick!</p><p>But then again, Occam’s Razor would easily apply here, wouldn’t it?</p><p>“…there is no so-called phantom,” Luke posited, “but there are rumours of hauntings that this man is exploiting for personal gain.”</p><p>“I see you haven’t lost your touch.” The Professor beamed from ear to ear. “You’re absolutely correct. The man calling himself the Phantom is, in fact, infatuated with Christine and using her naivete and love of music to control her in the guise of mentoring her.”</p><p>He laid the book back down on the table.</p><p>“The story follows young Christine,” he explained, “as she grows beyond the need to rely on this so-called Phantom and learns to take control of her life.”</p><p>Luke found himself smiling along with his mentor.</p><p>“A story about a supernatural figure who turns out to be little more than an ordinary man,” he said. “I see why you would be interested in it, Professor. Solving mysteries like that is practically your second job!”</p><p>Layton chuckled at the remark.</p><p>“I’ll admit that it was what drew me to the story,” he replied, “and what I’ve gleaned from the narrative so far has me quite intrigued.”</p><p>He looked down at the book again and ran his fingers over the raised impression of the mask.</p><p>“I only wish I had entered into the book without prior knowledge of the truth behind this Phantom fellow,” he said, “but the story has become such a cultural touchstone that more-or-less everybody knows of it by now.”</p><p>Luke felt the heat returning to his face.</p><p>“Yes, of course,” he said nervously. “It’s a little saddening to investigate a mystery while already knowing the truth behind it.”</p><p>“Indeed,” said Layton, and he leaned back in his seat. “Hence why this Yatagarasu has me so intrigued. It’s been quite a while since a properly inexplicable little puzzle like this one fell into my lap.”</p><p>He pulled the overfilled envelope out of his coat pocket and turned it over in his gloved hands.</p><p>“And if you wish me to be honest,” he added, “to be able to solve this puzzle with my old apprentice is quite pleasantly nostalgic.”</p><p>The warmth flooded away from Luke’s face and settled in his chest, and he couldn’t help but smile in response.</p><p>“I know how you feel, Professor,” he said. “I’ve enjoyed my time in America, I really have, but I missed going on adventures with you.”</p><p>He tried to swallow a hard lump that was forming in his throat.</p><p>“I missed <em> you</em>.”</p><p>Layton’s fingers tightened on the envelope in his hands.</p><p>“I’ve missed you too, Luke,” he replied. “It’s truly a delight to be able to work with you again.”</p><p>Luke interlocked his fingers on his lap and tried to contain his glee. If this went any further, he was going to start crying, and a gentleman <em> never </em> made a scene in public.</p><p>But how was it going to be possible to control himself when he’d been pleading for this day to come almost every moment since he’d departed?</p><p>His eyes were already watering. He quickly wiped them dry and hoped the Professor didn’t notice.</p><p>“…um, excuse me…”</p><p>At the sound of a meek little voice, attention turned in the direction it had come from, and Layton and Luke discovered it had belonged to a small girl in an impressively tall hat the same shade of red as the cloak over her shoulders.</p><p>“Oh!” Layton gasped upon noticing her. “You’re excused, young lady. How may we help you?”</p><p>The little girl kept her eyes downcast and fiddled with the brooch that pinned her cloak together.</p><p>“W-well,” she stammered, “um…”</p><p>“It’s okay!” Luke put on the friendliest voice he could. “You can trust us! What’s wrong, are you lost?”</p><p>“No,” said the girl, “but… I…”</p><p>She withdrew further into her cloak and continued fidgeting with her brooch.</p><p>“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” Layton said gently. “There’s no shame in asking for assistance.”</p><p>“…but…” the girl said, “…but I don’t know if I should…”</p><p>“Whyever not?” asked Layton.</p><p>The girl raised her head, peering up at the pair with the widest and most innocent blue eyes that either of them had ever seen.</p><p>“My daddy says that I shouldn’t talk to strangers,” she said, and went back to fiddling with her brooch, “but…”</p><p>She cast her eyes down at the floor.</p><p>“…but if we’re in the same profession,” she continued, “do you count as a stranger?”</p><p>“Huh?” Luke turned to look at Layton, who was still eyeing the girl with curiosity.</p><p>She certainly didn’t look like an archaeologist and at that age… she couldn’t be any older than nine or ten years old! Then again, her accent implied that she was from across the pond, so perhaps things just worked differently where she was from…</p><p>“Pardon me,” Layton said as he adjusted his hat, “but I’m afraid I don’t follow. What do you mean by ‘the same profession’?”</p><p>Luke looked over the little girl again. His eyes were drawn to the cloak she was wearing; its edge was a zig-zag pattern edged with white diamonds, decorated with symbols from card suits in purple and blue, and each little point was tipped with a bell that jingled as she continued fidgeting.</p><p>This wasn’t an outfit that an ordinary person would wear in public. It looked more like something worn by…</p><p>“Professor, look at her outfit,” said Luke. “Pardon me, miss, but are you some kind of stage performer?”</p><p>“Yes, I am!” The little girl lit up like a spotlight. “I’m a magician! So I thought it must be okay if I ask a fellow performer for help, right?”</p><p>Luke’s stomach plummeted.</p><p>Such a sweet little girl, and obviously one who needed help… they didn’t have any choice but to disappoint her, did they?</p><p>“Ah, well…” Layton adjusted his hat again, the smile having long since fallen away from his face. “I’m afraid, young lady, that you are mistaken.”</p><p>“Huh?!” The girl leapt back in horror. “What do you mean, mistaken?!”</p><p>“While I do have quite a number of talents,” Layton told her, “I must confess that stage magic cannot be counted amongst them. My primary field of expertise is archaeology.”</p><p>The little girl stared at him, jaw slack in dismay. She gasped and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, and took a deep breath in an effort to compose herself.</p><p>“…but…” she said, “…but then…”</p><p>She released her cloak and bunched her gloved hands into fists.</p><p>“Why are you wearing that hat if you’re not a magician?!” she demanded.</p><p>Layton flinched at her outburst. Luke suddenly felt hot under the collar again and grimaced at the sight of his mentor pulling the brim of his beloved hat down to hide his eyes.</p><p>“…w-well…” he stuttered.</p><p>“Honestly, that’s really rude, mister!” The little girl folded her arms and thrust her nose skyward. “How could you be so mean? Why would you trick people like that?”</p><p>“Eh?!” Luke exclaimed in alarm.</p><p>“Of course everyone’s going to think you’re a magician if you wear a hat like that!” She pointed at the headwear that Layton nervously looked up from. “There are so many hats in England, so why did you have to pick a top hat?”</p><p>The heat was boiling in Luke’s chest now, and his hands, still resting on the table, curled into fists.</p><p>“Couldn’t you wear a bowler hat?” the girl demanded. “Or a trilby! Then you won’t be giving out false advertising!”</p><p>“Well-” Layton started.</p><p>“Hats don’t decide what job you have!” Luke snapped, and he pointed at his own choice of headgear. “I wear a flat cap, but I promise you I’m definitely not a farmer! If you saw somebody who WASN’T wearing a hat, would you assume they were unemployed?!”</p><p>The regret hit him almost as hard as the train they were riding in when he caught sight of the terror in the little girl’s eyes and the way she had pulled back from him in a noticeably defensive manner. She was clutching her cloak again and tears were brimming in her big blue eyes.</p><p>Luke sat back in his seat.</p><p>What was he supposed to say now?</p><p>“…n-no, I wouldn’t…” said the little girl. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend anyone.” She wiped her eyes on her hands. “I’ll just ask someone else if-”</p><p>“You have our apologies in return, young lady,” Layton interjected. “I understand how my hat can cause certain presumptions among those unfamiliar with me.”</p><p>He tipped his hat to her in a gesture of greeting, accompanied by that same gentle smile.</p><p>“Why don’t you tell us your name?” he asked. “Perhaps then we won’t count as strangers anymore.”</p><p>The girl stepped forward with a sad little sniff and started fiddling with her brooch again.</p><p>“I… um…” She lowered her hands and took a deep breath. “…my name’s Trucy.”</p><p>“It’s very nice to meet you, Trucy,” Layton said, and he offered her his hand. “My name is Hershel Layton, but you can call me Professor if you like. This young man accompanying me is my apprentice.”</p><p>“I’m Luke Triton,” Luke said as Trucy shook the Professor’s hand. “I’m very sorry I got upset with you. What do you need help with?”</p><p>The way she was fiddling with that brooch, it was remarkable the little green gem hadn’t fallen out by now.</p><p>“…even if you aren’t a magician like me,” she said, “can you please help me find my dad?”</p><p>Ah, so<em> that </em>was the issue, was it?</p><p>Luke looked up at Layton across the table.</p><p>“Can we, Professor?” Considering the outburst he’d just had, it seemed like the least they could do.</p><p>To his relief, his question was met with that friendly smile.</p><p>“Given the hours we have left until we reach Aberdeen,” said Layton, “I see no reason why we couldn’t.”</p><p>Luke heaved a sigh of relief, and they both turned back to Trucy.</p><p>“We’d be happy to help you find your father, young Trucy,” Layton told her. “Can you tell us where you last saw him?”</p><p>Sadly, rather than the delighted grin they had been hoping for, Trucy seemed more uncertain than ever.</p><p>“That’s the thing,” she said. “I kind of…” She gulped. “…didn’t.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” asked Luke. “Surely you’ve seen him since you got on the train, haven’t you?”</p><p>“Yes, of course!” cried Trucy. “But I fell asleep not long after we left London and when I woke up, he wasn’t there. I thought he’d just gone to the bathroom, but then he didn’t come back and… and I don’t know where I should look…”</p><p>She blinked tears out of her eyes.</p><p>“And you were too afraid to ask a conductor or security officer for help?” asked Layton.</p><p>Trucy nodded.</p><p>“They scare me,” she said. “So I thought I could ask <em> you </em> for help, because…”</p><p>“Because of my hat?”</p><p>She nodded again with another sniff.</p><p>“Hey, there’s no need to be embarrassed!” Luke chimed in, and he passed the little girl a serviette from the centre of the table. “I know how scary it can be when you’re a little kid and you can’t find your mum or dad.”</p><p>Trucy blew her nose far harder than a girl her size should have been able to, and Luke forced himself not to cringe at the sound.</p><p>“Why, um…” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t we search for him with you? Would that make you feel better?”</p><p>“Um…” She crumpled the serviette into a ball. “…yes please.”</p><p>The poor little thing still sounded like she could start crying at any moment, but it seemed they were out of the woods for now.</p><p>“How about you start by telling us what your father looks like?” asked Layton.</p><p>She looked up with a tiny gasp.</p><p>“Okay, well…” She raised a finger to her mouth and tapped on her chin. “…the last time I saw him, he had on a blue hoodie with white fur around the hood and a really, <em> really </em> bright blue hat with ‘Papa’ stitched into the side in dark pink. And, um, he hasn’t shaved in a few days, so his face is all stubbly and scratchy. Oh, and he’s wearing jeans too!”</p><p>If there had been any doubt that she was a performer, it was definitely gone by now. Nobody would be able to inspire the imagination like that and <em> not </em> belong on a stage.</p><p>“Wow,” said Luke. “With a description that detailed, we’re bound to find him!”</p><p>“Come along then, you two.” Layton slipped both the envelope and his book into his pockets as he got to his feet. “We aren’t going to get much searching done at this table, are we?”</p><p>“Thank you!” cried Trucy as Luke stood up too. “Thank you so much!”</p><p>“It’s no trouble, my dear,” Layton said. “After all…”</p><p>He tipped his hat to the delighted little girl.</p><p>“…it’s a gentleman’s duty to help a young lady in need,” he told her. “Shall we get started then?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It seemed that everybody in the dining car had overheard the conversation, because every single person they spoke to had a fully prepared response to the question of if they had seen an unshaven man in a vivid blue hat:</p><p>“No, sorry.”</p><p>“I haven’t, I’m afraid.”</p><p>“Have you tried in the passenger cars?”</p><p>“No, I haven’t seen anyone like that.”</p><p>Trucy raised her hat and put on the biggest puppy-dog eyes she could manage, Luke provided his sweetest smile and Layton his most gentlemanly voice, but no matter who they spoke to, the reply was always in the same vein.</p><p>Well, almost always. There was one woman who asked for assistance with a word search she was struggling with. Luke worried for a moment that he would have to drag the Professor away by the ear or steal his hat to get him to come along with them for the rest of their search.</p><p>He seemed satisfied after pointing out a couple of the longer words and they were able to proceed into the passenger carriages, hoping that maybe they would come across something, <em> anything </em> that could point them in the direction Trucy’s father had vanished in.</p><p>But every time it seemed like a clue was turning up, it faded into thin air just as quickly as it had arrived.</p><p>“I think I saw someone like that heading down the aisle, but that was quite a while ago.”</p><p>“No, sorry. I didn’t see anyone who looked like that.”</p><p>“I’ve been napping since I got on this train and <em> this </em>is what I’m woken up for? Bugger off, the lot of you.”</p><p>“What about your mummy, sweetie? Surely she’s worried about you too!”</p><p>That particular remark caused Trucy to retreat back into the thick folds of her cloak, shielding her eyes with her hat. She didn’t reply when either Luke or Layton asked her what was wrong, but then again, she didn’t really need to: her reaction did more than enough talking for her.</p><p>She sniffed, wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, and suggested that they keep searching.</p><p>The Professor shared a glance of concern with his apprentice, wondering what to do, but there weren’t really a lot of options other than going from compartment to compartment, asking the people within if they had seen Trucy’s father.</p><p>Just like they had been for the past fifteen minutes or so.</p><p>As they moved from one carriage into the next, Layton decided to ask their new friend a question.</p><p>“Trucy,” he said, “are you quite sure your father boarded the train with you?”</p><p>“Yes, I’m sure!” Trucy replied. “We came on together! He sat down with me as the train started moving! There’s no way he COULDN’T be here!”</p><p>“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Luke kneeled down to look her in the eye. “I’m sure he didn’t jump from the train. He’d have to be nuts to abandon a sweet little girl like you!”</p><p>He gave her a handkerchief so that she could clean herself up and then they resumed their search.</p><p>The train seemed far longer than any of them had anticipated. So many doors to knock on, so many people to greet and ask for help and provide with a brief description.</p><p>So many people apologising for not being able to help.</p><p>“I think I’d remember if I saw someone who looked like that.”</p><p>“Eurgh, no. Who would allow someone that scruffy on civilised public transport?”</p><p>“He probably opened a window to get a smoke and fell out. How should I know?”</p><p>“How long have you been searching? Maybe he’s gone back to your compartment, darling. He might be wondering where you’ve gone!”</p><p>The second she processed <em> that </em> proposal, Trucy turned on her heels and bolted down the aisle, the bells on her cloak jingling as she ran with her two new friends struggling to keep up.</p><p>“Trucy!” Luke called after her. “Trucy, wait!”</p><p>“Hold on a moment!” cried Layton. “Slow down!”</p><p>Trucy didn’t reply. She leapt through the small foyers separating the carriages and skidded to a halt at the door to one of the compartments – apparently the one she was meant to be sharing with her father – and threw it open with a shout of “Daddy!”</p><p>The fact that she stood frozen in the doorway conveyed, as her impromptu entourage caught up with her, that her hopes had been utterly dashed.</p><p>Sure enough, when they looked inside, the seats were empty.</p><p>Luke looked up and down the aisle to check if they had attracted any attention.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” he said, and leaned against the doorway to catch his breath. “How is it possible that <em> nobody </em> has seen this man?”</p><p>“With such a memorable appearance,” Layton said as he stroked his chin in thought, “you’d think that at least one person would know where he went.”</p><p>He leaned backwards to look down the aisle they had just run up from.</p><p>“The only place we haven’t searched yet is the freight car right at the back of the train,” he pointed out, “but surely there’s no reason for a normal civilian to be in there, let alone an American tourist travelling with such a young daughter.”</p><p>Trucy remained where she was, staring into the empty compartment and visibly fighting back tears.</p><p>“…Daddy…” she choked. “…where have you gone?”</p><p>The sight of her struggling not to sob was like a knife through Luke’s heart, and he leaned in closer to Layton to speak more privately.</p><p>“Professor,” he muttered, “do you think we ought to check the freight car just in case?”</p><p>Layton gave his chin another thoughtful rub.</p><p>“It may be a good idea to ensure no stone is left unturned,” he replied, “but my concern is that if we get caught…”</p><p>“…we’ll get into trouble,” Luke finished for him. “But this man would already be in trouble if he’s in there, so why not?”</p><p>“It’s very likely that the entrance to the car will be guarded,” Layton pointed out, “and even if it isn’t, it’s all but guaranteed to be locked. How do you intend for us to gain entry, let alone do so without being apprehended?”</p><p>Luke had already opened his mouth to reply when he realised he didn’t know what to say.</p><p>“Um…” His brow furrowed as he wracked his brain for an idea.</p><p>“What are you guys talking about?”</p><p>Their eyes fell upon Trucy, who seemed to have regained some of her composure and was watching them with obvious curiosity.</p><p>“Trucy, this may sound odd,” said Luke. “The only place we haven’t checked yet is the freight car. It’s unlikely that your father could be in there, and even if he is, we don’t know how we’ll be able to get in-”</p><p>“Oh! I know!” Trucy’s hands flew to the little heart-shaped bag on her hip and she had it unzipped before anyone could blink. “I carry my tools with me everywhere in case I get a chance to practise and-”</p><p>She held her hands aloft with her biggest, goofiest grin, and Luke and Layton almost flinched when they saw what she had clenched between her fingers.</p><p>“-this is a perfect opportunity to demonstrate my hobby!”</p><p>The untrained eye might have mistaken them for surgical or dental tools, but they were far too thin and nowhere near sharp enough for such a purpose. One was a curved spoke, another looked like a mascara brush, there were a few bearing various degrees of wiggling to their shapes and one like a long and too-thin allen key…</p><p>“…she’s a lock-picker,” Layton realised, and sounded almost frustrated by the revelation.</p><p>Luke’s mind flew to the envelope he’d mulled over earlier with his plate of beans on toast.</p><p>“Um…” He tugged at his scarf again. “…Trucy?”</p><p>“Yeah?” Trucy piped up.</p><p>“Does the name ‘Yatagarasu’ mean anything to you?”</p><p>Trucy briefly cast her eyes skyward.</p><p>“No,” she replied. “Should it?”</p><p>“Oh, thank <em> goodness</em>,” Luke sighed.</p><p>“I didn’t think this would be something I had to point out,” Layton said as he adjusted his hat with a frown, “but Trucy, you do understand that what you’re suggesting is <em> incredibly </em> illegal, do you not?”</p><p>“If we believe a missing person is inside, that’s probable cause!” Trucy responded.</p><p>Layton didn’t say anything to that, and it took a look up at his puzzled frown for Luke to realise why that was: for the first time in what could have been years, Professor Hershel Layton was <em> speechless</em>.</p><p>Luke tried to clear his throat.</p><p>“Trucy,” he said, “how old are you?”</p><p>“Ten,” said Trucy. “Why?”</p><p>Older than expected, but definitely nowhere near old enough to know about this sort of thing.</p><p>“If the door really is locked,” said Layton, “the question is raised of how your father got in there in the first place-”</p><p>“We’ll worry about that later!”</p><p>Trucy charged past her new friends and down the aisle they had come from, the tools in her hands thrust heavenward as she ran.</p><p>“Tru- Wait!” Luke barely even had time to register where she was going.</p><p>“We’d better follow after her and make sure she doesn’t get herself into trouble!” said Layton. “Come on!”</p><p>“Just who on earth IS this girl’s father?!” Luke gasped.</p><p>Just like that they were running again, struggling to keep sight of Trucy’s retreating form as she bounded from carriage to carriage and almost crashed straight into one of the passengers they had questioned just moments ago. Layton could only splutter out a brief apology as they passed and Luke <em> wanted </em> to call out to Trucy, but he knew that doing so would just attract unwelcome attention and who knew what sort of people could be listening?</p><p>Thank goodness she wasn’t shouting as she ran. It would’ve been just their luck if she had screamed “I’m coming, Daddy!” and caught the ear of a security officer who would be <em> very </em>interested in what those tools she was holding were for.</p><p>There was a moment when they lost sight of her. She disappeared in the middle of one of the carriages, leaving one of those aforementioned security personnel alone as he stamped down the aisle and barged past Layton and Luke so roughly that Luke skinned his knee on the carpeted floor. He tried to ignore the burning pain as he noticed the little girl emerging from a compartment up ahead, followed by shouts indicating that said compartment hadn’t been as unoccupied as she had wanted, and off she went again with her picks in her hands.</p><p>How the heck could a single child contain such vast amounts of energy?!</p><p>“Come on, Luke!” Layton pulled the teen to his feet. “We’re almost at the end of the train! She doesn’t have anywhere else to go!”</p><p>“This is NOT how I expected our first investigation in two years to kick off!” Luke panted.</p><p>At long last, as they reached the foyer with the disgusting toilet Luke had used earlier, they found Trucy already fixated on the next carriage’s windowless door. She was bent down in front of the lock, eyes so focused she could have burned a hole in the metal and doing who knows what with the tools she had so proudly brandished as she wiggled them around in the keyhole.</p><p>“Trucy, are you <em> insane?!</em>” Luke gasped, and he leaned a hand on the toilet door to catch his breath. “What if a security officer had caught you?”</p><p>“I watched him walk away!” Trucy reported without so much as a blink away from the lock. “He was heading towards the dining car! I think he went to go get some breakfast!”</p><p>Luke cast a cursory look over his shoulder all the same.</p><p>“Why?” asked Trucy. “Do you want to go and keep him busy in case-”</p><p>“I may not know who your father is, young lady,” Layton said sternly, “but I don’t think he’d be happy with any of us if we allowed you to fall into a life of crime!”</p><p>“Picking locks is just my hobby!” Trucy objected, and she pressed her ear to the door and wiggled around one of the tools as if brushing the lock’s teeth. “Besides, all I’m doing is unlocking a door! I’m not holding up a bank or kidnapping someone’s daughter! I just want to find my dad!”</p><p>
  <em> Click. </em>
</p><p>She gasped in delight and jumped away from the door as it swung open.</p><p>“Ta-da!” She held out her hands, presenting the new entryway to the pair of gentlemen that flanked her on either side.</p><p>Layton and Luke leaned forward, peering cautiously into the freight car’s dark, windowless interior.</p><p>“One moment.” The Professor reached into the depths of his coat pockets.</p><p>“Do you have a flashlight?” asked Trucy. “I have a little one in my bag if you need it!”</p><p>“That’s a very kind offer,” said Layton, “but I do recall pocketing something just in case… ah!”</p><p>From uncharted realms of his coat, he produced a small handheld lantern. Another little click later and he was shining it around the in the shadows of the stacks of crates and luggage.</p><p>“Hello?” Luke called. “Is anybody there?”</p><p>“Dad?” Trucy cupped her hands around her mouth. “Daddy, are you in here?”</p><p>Layton stood in an open space between a number of large suitcases, rubbing his chin in thought but keeping his lantern pointed forward. Luke pushed his hands as deep as he could into his coat pockets to protect them from a cold draught that drifted through the car as he looked around. Part of him wished he had thought to dig his earmuffs out of his luggage.</p><p>“…Trucy?”</p><p>The voice came from somewhere in the deeper recesses of the car. Trucy’s head snapped up the moment she heard it.</p><p>“Daddy!” she shouted, and almost pushed Luke over in her efforts to get through. “Dad, where are you-”</p><p>“Trucy, stay back!” her father commanded. “Don’t come any closer! I-is there someone with you?”</p><p>Trucy had been about to pull a crate aside, but the call from her father caused her to look back at her new friends.</p><p>“Um-” Luke started.</p><p>“Don’t let my daughter come any closer!” shouted Trucy’s father. “Don’t let her see this! Don’t let her look!”</p><p>And then Layton approached with his lantern.</p><p>“Trucy!” the father desperately yelled. “Trucy, DON’T LOOK!”</p><p>The scene illuminated before them by the Professor’s lantern caused Luke to slap his hand over Trucy’s eyes and hold her still to keep her from going any further.</p><p>The man sitting against the car’s wall fitted her description perfectly. Blue hoodie with a white fur trim, stubble all over his chin and a vivid blue hat with ‘Papa’ stitched into the side in deep pink. The hat, however, had been pulled down over his eyes and his hands stayed behind his back no matter how he struggled and strained.</p><p>“Ah…” Layton sighed as he moved his light downwards to get a better look. “…oh dear…”</p><p>The second man in the car looked to be in his late twenties at the eldest and was dressed in the unmistakable uniform of the train’s security personnel. He lay on the floor with one hand resting beside his neck, the other outstretched towards the apparent prisoner, and his jaw was slack and eyes wide and glassy.</p><p>All of that combined would have been enough to convey that he was dead, but what really drove the point home was the pool of blood that he was sprawled in. The metallic smell was almost as overwhelming as the sight of it trickling into a grate that he had fallen beside.</p><p>“That, um…” Luke swallowed hard. “…that’s a lot of blood…”</p><p>Layton looked down and pressed on the top of Trucy’s hat to turn her attention his way.</p><p>“Trucy,” he said, his voice low and solemn, “do as your father says. Stay here and don’t look at where he is.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“I know you want to see your dad,” Luke said, and tried to loosen his scarf again, “but trust us. Do <em> not </em> look.”</p><p>“Luke, we should find something to cover the corpse,” muttered Layton, and he shined his light to the back of the car. “One of the tarpaulins on that crate over there should do the trick.”</p><p>“Good idea, Professor,” said Luke, trying his hardest to ignore the churning sensation in his stomach.</p><p>That drain in the floor… odds were that this man’s blood was splattered along the tracks for who knows how far down the line…</p><p>“Listen, Trucy.” Layton kneeled down to match the little girl’s eye level as Luke pulled the cargo aside to let them pass. “You have to stay here until we tell you it’s alright to come out. I understand that you want to see your father safe and sound, but for your own sake, please don’t look his way until we tell you.”</p><p>Trucy nodded.</p><p>“Okay,” she said sadly.</p><p>“Who’s there?” her father shouted as Luke manoeuvred around the pool of blood, his hidden eyes darting this way and that. “Is my daughter safe? Trucy! Are you still there? Are you okay?!”</p><p>“Your daughter’s fine, sir,” said Luke, trying his hardest not to look down. “Give us a moment to cover the body and we can cut you free.”</p><p>“You can’t!” the man shouted. “These are <em> handcuffs!</em>”</p><p>“…ah,” Layton sighed, and his hand returned to his chin.</p><p>“Did you say handcuffs?” Trucy called from her hiding place. “Daddy! Don’t worry! I can get them off if you-”</p><p>“Not yet!” cried Luke, almost stumbling into the blood in his desperation. “Just a moment! Don’t come out yet!”</p><p>He forced himself to turn around. God, that blood was <em> pungent. </em></p><p>“Could you unbuckle those corners, my boy?”</p><p>“Yeah- yes, okay…”</p><p>The tarpaulin sprang free and Luke snatched at the corners to prevent it from carrying away on a draught, and he tried not to think about where that draught was coming from or how much blood had dried inside that grate.</p><p>“Over here, be careful-”</p><p>“I know, I know…”</p><p>Some macabre part of Luke’s mind whispered to him that this was rather like when he had helped his mother change bedclothes and he forced that part to shut up. He felt like he was trying to swallow his own lungs as he helped the Professor spread out the tarpaulin, and nothing compared to the relief that washed over him as the sheet settled over the body.</p><p>That must have been the heaviest sigh he had ever heaved in his life. Thank goodness this thing was big enough to hide most of the blood.</p><p>“Okay,” he called to Trucy. “Okay, it’s safe.”</p><p>“Got it!” Trucy bounded over the cargo. “I’m coming, Daddy!”</p><p>“Luke,” the Professor whispered. “Look at this.”</p><p>Luke gulped again when he noticed Layton was holding the corpse’s hand; the one that had been reaching for the second man in the carriage. He forced himself to kneel down so that they could talk in private.</p><p>“This man’s body is still warm,” the Professor said. “He can’t have been dead for more than ten minutes at least.”</p><p>A horrible thought occurred to the young apprentice.</p><p>“Do you think it’s possible that…” Luke nodded towards the man that Trucy was in the process of freeing.</p><p>“No, I doubt it,” sighed Layton. “If he had killed this man, it’s doubtful he would ever have believed his daughter would come across this scene, or any other person for that matter. That being the case, he wouldn’t have any reason to create the impression that he had been imprisoned. It would be far easier to simply leave the freight car, don’t you think?”</p><p>Luke’s eyes wandered back down to the dead man’s hand. Somehow the fact that his fingers were still pink was more disturbing than if they had been grey. This hand still looked very much alive and the fingers were slack and soft.</p><p>“…and he’s still limp…” Luke said mostly to himself. “…no rigor mortis or…”</p><p>He forced down a gag.</p><p>“Luke, are you alright?” asked Layton.</p><p>Thank god this was a tarpaulin. Any non-waterproof sheet would have soaked up the blood like a towel.</p><p>“…this is a lot of blood.” Luke tried to focus on a bloodless patch of floor. “The <em> smell </em>…”</p><p>“Perhaps you had better wait outside-”</p><p>“I’ll be fine! It’s okay!” Luke straightened up and suppressed the urge to run. “I just need a little time to adjust…” He swallowed again.</p><p>From the wall to their side came another small click.</p><p>“Daddy!” cried Trucy, and Luke looked over just in time to see the little girl throw herself into the man’s newly-freed arms.</p><p>“Trucy!” he gasped as he held his daughter close. “Trucy, sweetie, it’s okay! It’s okay! Are you alright?”</p><p>“Am <em> I </em>alright?!” Trucy pushed herself back enough to look her father in the still-covered face. “What about you? Daddy, what’re you doing in here?!”</p><p>“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, I promise!” The former prisoner released her and pushed himself up onto his feet, supporting himself on the wall. “I thought I could get back from the bathroom before you woke up, but I got lost and- ah…”</p><p>He stumbled and clutched a hand to his head.</p><p>“…ow…” he groaned. “I… I think someone hit me, and then I woke up handcuffed and this thing on my face-”</p><p>“-and sitting in front of a corpse?” asked Luke as the Professor stood up.</p><p>“…seems that way,” the man replied, and he reached up to pull his hat off his eyes at long last. “Thank you for protecting my daughter, Mr-”</p><p>And as soon as he had removed the impromptu blindfold, the shock of recognition washed over Luke like a plunge into an icy lake.</p><p>“-LAYTON?!”</p><p>“My word!” the Professor gasped, the warm smile returning to his face. “This is a surprise!”</p><p>“No way!” cried Luke, mentally shaving Trucy’s father and trying to imagine him in a bright blue suit instead of a dull blue hoodie. “No! No, it can’t be!”</p><p>“Dad?” Trucy looked up at the man’s slack-jawed face. “Do you know these guys?”</p><p>Layton chuckled as he stepped forward.</p><p>“He certainly does,” he said. “This is quite unexpected…”</p><p>He held out his hand for their old friend to shake.</p><p>“…but I must confess it’s nice to see you again, Mr Wright.”</p><p>Phoenix Wright’s eyes darted between the Professor’s hand and his face.</p><p>“Um, likewise- Look, I’d love to catch up,” he spluttered, “but I think we have more important things to worry about right now-”</p><p>He cut himself off when he noticed the covered body on the floor and he jumped down next to it, and seized the hand that Layton had been examining. Layton himself almost leapt back in shock.</p><p>“Hey.” Phoenix slapped on the still-warm hand. “Hey, wake up. Can you hear me?”</p><p>He pressed two fingers to the lifeless wrist.</p><p>“Hey!” he shouted. “Say something!”</p><p>Luke looked up at the Professor, whose smile had slipped away.</p><p>“Mr Wright.” Layton reached for the lawyer’s shoulder. “This man is already dead.”</p><p>“He can’t be!” Phoenix slapped the Professor’s hand aside as he jumped to his feet. “I JUST heard them talking!” He stepped into an open space and paced around the piles of luggage. “I mean, I don’t know what they were talking about because I still felt kind of woozy and my head is still KILLING me…” He hesitated, clutching his head. “…but I heard two people talking and then there was a gunshot and then I-I think there was…”</p><p>His eyes wandered back down to the corpse.</p><p>“…choking…” he continued as realisation trickled into his features. “…a-and then he went quiet and I asked if he was okay, but I couldn’t be sure because I <em> know </em> humans are tough and it can take a LOT to kill a man and depending on where he was shot, it could take HOURS for him to bleed out just to the point of losing consciousness, let alone-”</p><p>“Mr Wright!” Layton stepped around the body and grabbed Phoenix by the arm. “Please try to get a hold of yourself! You aren’t making any sense!”</p><p>“Don’t TOUCH me!”</p><p>Phoenix shook himself free of the Professor’s grip and looked back down at the covered body, his eyes wild and struggling to focus. Luke looked back at Trucy to check that she was alright and saw her watching…</p><p>…her father? Was that really the truth? She was worriedly fiddling with her brooch again and thank <em> goodness </em> she wasn’t looking down…</p><p>“Do you have any idea what happened here?” asked Layton. “Mr Wright, do you know how this man died?”</p><p>The taller man’s breathing was heavy and frightened. His eyes finally found focus on the tarpaulin in a frown of confusion.</p><p>“…I…” he managed to say. “…I don’t-”</p><p>That was as far as he got before the carriage door slammed open and sunlight spilled into the scene.</p><p>“ALL OF YOU FREEZE RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!” screamed an unfamiliar voice.</p><p>A human shaped shadow moved closer out of the light that flooded over his shoulders, and Luke’s heart dropped at the familiar sight of the fluorescent vest and checker-banded hat.</p><p>Just what they needed to come upon this scene.</p><p>A <em> cop</em>.</p><p>“Security received reports of a gunshot heard in the region of this end of the train,” he said, and shined a brilliantly bright torch right in the Professor’s face. “Any of you care to explain what happened here?”</p><p>Layton raised a hand to shield his eyes, but he needn’t have bothered; the officer moved his light down to the floor.</p><p>“Who’s that under the sheet?” he demanded.</p><p>While Luke wracked his brain in search of a believable excuse, the Professor cleared his throat.</p><p>“My, erm…” The awkward situation had him struggling for words again. “…apologies, my good man-”</p><p>“Who’s that under the sheet?!”</p><p>“Hey!” yelled Trucy. “Mind your manners, mister!”</p><p>“We were just trying to figure that out for ourselves!” added Luke since that technically wasn’t a lie. “We found Mr Wright here looking like somebody had kidnapped him-”</p><p>“You?” The light swung onto Phoenix’s face. “What do you know then, eh? Got any idea how this bloke died?!”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t say a word.</p><p>Even with the torchlight shining right in his face, he didn’t even narrow his eyes against the glare.</p><p>“Out with it, man!” shouted the officer, stomping right up to Phoenix with the torch over his shoulder. “What’s the matter with you? Gone deaf?”</p><p>“Don’t speak to my daddy like that!” Luke had to grab Trucy by the back of her cloak to keep her from intervening.</p><p>“I’ll speak to passengers how I bloody well please!” the officer replied.</p><p>“With all due respect,” Layton said as he adjusted his hat, “none of us have a clear picture of exactly what happened in here. If we could just take a moment to slow down and think about this rationally, I’m sure we could begin a proper investigation-”</p><p>“Oh, do you now?” The officer redirected his torch back to Layton’s face and the shorter man flinched at the sudden light. “Okay then, Sherlock Bloody Holmes. What do you suggest we do about this mess?”</p><p>“Well…” Layton straightened up. “…if you would allow me to speak, Mr-”</p><p>“OFFICER Fenchurch, thank you very much,” the officer interjected.</p><p>Layton lowered his hat’s brim enough that his eyes were safely shielded.</p><p>“Officer Fenchurch,” he corrected himself, “do consider that this train is an express service direct from King’s Cross Station to Aberdeen. As far as I know, it makes no stops along that route, meaning that unless they were some fearless daredevil, and I believe the abduction of Mr Wright here indicates that they may not be…”</p><p>He looked up at officer Fenchurch with a sternness that Luke found worrisome.</p><p>“…the murderer is still somewhere aboard this train.”</p><p>Yep, there it was.</p><p>Trucy hopped over the tarpaulin and hugged her father around the waist. Phoenix, for his part, remained firmly rooted to the spot, only moving to pat the top of his little daughter’s hat.</p><p>“May I suggest, officer Fenchurch,” Layton continued, “that you begin questioning all passengers on what they witnessed? I wouldn’t rule out personnel from the suspects while you’re at it. For all we know, anybody on this train could be capable of wielding a firearm, but none more so than the security staff.”</p><p>Luke couldn’t help but notice Fenchurch’s grip tightening on his torch.</p><p>“Might I suggest enquiring amongst your peers as to their movements prior to your arrival in this carriage?” the Professor offered.</p><p>Fenchurch’s free hand curled into a fist. Luke’s heart hammered in his throat; was this man going to punch a world-famous archaeologist in the face?!</p><p>But then, all of a sudden, he swung his torch around to point at the back wall; at the crate that Luke and Layton had taken the tarpaulin from to cover up the body. Its contents were exposed to the air, but none of them could see what was inside.</p><p>Before anybody had a chance to react, Fenchurch marched over to the crate and shined his torch inside, eliciting the sudden sound of a...</p><p>…yelp?</p><p>“Well, would you look at that!”</p><p>Fenchurch reached inside and, from within the crate, he pulled a young girl who couldn’t be any older than twelve. She writhed and struggled in the grip around her forearm, her long red hair swinging this way and that, and Fenchurch wrenched her out of the crate and threw her to the floor in front of the corpse.</p><p>“Seems we won’t have to do anywhere near as much searching as you suggested, Hat-man,” Fenchurch spat, and he grabbed the girl by the back of her light-yellow jacket. “Come on, you little stowaway! You’ve got some questions to answer!”</p><p>“H-hey!” Luke finally pulled his feet away from the ground to stop the officer from dragging the poor girl along the floor. “Where the heck did she even come from?!”</p><p>“No idea, but you know where you’re going, don’t you?” Fenchurch said to the girl, who only continued struggling against his grasp.</p><p>“Officer Fenchurch!” Layton barked. “Surely you can’t believe that this young girl is the one responsible for this crime!”</p><p>“She’s already committed one crime!” Fenchurch dragged the now-sobbing girl to her feet. “What’s another while she’s at it, eh?”</p><p>“You can’t equate stowing away on a train with <em> murder!</em>” Luke pointed out.</p><p>“And stowing away isn’t killing someone!” Trucy shouted from behind her father. “Let her go, you jerk!”</p><p>Luke leaned down to look the girl in her tearful blue eyes.</p><p>“Excuse me, miss,” he said, keeping his voice as calm and polite as he could, “can you tell us what happened?”</p><p>The girl didn’t say a word. She simply stood there, panting and sweating, terrified tears running down her face.</p><p>“…can you understand me?” asked Luke.</p><p>Still no reply.</p><p>“Stowaway AND illegal alien who can’t even be bothered to learn our bloody language?” Fenchurch was practically laughing by now. “Oh, you’re just getting more arrested by the second, you little-”</p><p>“Don’t you dare take one more step.”</p><p>The order was calm, but it was that calmness in Mr Wright’s voice that was so chilling.</p><p>He still made no movement when Fenchurch redirected the torchlight to his face.</p><p>“Hmm?” Fenchurch said. “And who do you think you are, ordering me around like that?”</p><p>Phoenix lowered his gaze, seemingly directly into the path of the beam. The light threw the stubble on his cheeks and the dark circles around his eyes into needle-sharp relief.</p><p>“I think I’m a man who’s noticed that you’re being pretty damn presumptuous right now,” he replied, eyes narrowing in anger. “We have no idea if this girl is guilty, so treating her as if she is…”</p><p>He glanced down at the struggling girl, who was clutching her hands to her ears.</p><p>“…especially when she seems to have no idea what’s going on,” Phoenix went on, “is not only unethical but downright cruel.”</p><p>“Oh, really?” Fenchurch stepped close enough to punch Mr Wright in the face. “Well, what do you suggest, you stuck-up Yank?”</p><p>When Phoenix looked back up at the officer’s face, he had fire in his eyes.</p><p>“If you want to determine this girl’s guilt,” he said, “I can’t think of any better method than a trial.”</p><p>“Eh?!” Fenchurch leapt back in alarm.</p><p>“Really?” Trucy cried excitedly.</p><p>“On a <em> train?</em>” Luke exclaimed.</p><p>Layton’s hand returned to his chin.</p><p>“It would certainly provide ample opportunity for cooler heads and rational thought to prevail,” he pointed out, “if we consider the current circumstances-”</p><p>“A trial?” Fenchurch’s grip tightened even harder on his torch. “A bloody <em> trial?! </em> And what, you think you’re some fancy-pants barrister, do you?”</p><p>Phoenix closed his eyes and sighed. His shoulders slumped under his jacket. For the briefest moment, he looked as though he was about to collapse.</p><p>“…not quite,” he said as he opened his eyes, “but I <em> am </em> a person who can recognise when a situation needs to be investigated rather than arresting the first person in sight and calling it a day.”</p><p>He rested his hands in his pockets.</p><p>“If all the evidence stacks up against this girl,” he said, “then fine. Arrest her. I couldn’t care less even if I tried. But if it turns out she doesn’t have anything to do with this…”</p><p>He looked down at the girl again, who had resigned herself to Fenchurch’s grip and was outwardly sobbing with her hands over her ears.</p><p>Fenchurch huffed.</p><p>“Fine,” he snapped. “You want a trial? You’ll get a bloody trial. Whatever farce we can scrape together, at least.”</p><p>He turned on his heels to storm out of the freight car.</p><p>“Don’t be surprised if my supervisor laughs it off,” he called over his shoulder as he dragged the girl away, “and throws this future ASBO in a cell where she belongs!”</p><p>And just like that, he was gone.</p><p>Luke heaved a sigh of relief at the return of quietness. He looked over at Mr Wright, who had remained where he stood, still watching the empty doorway.</p><p>“Mr Wright-”</p><p>“Not now.”</p><p>He held up a hand at the Professor before the shorter man could finish his sentence.</p><p>“I <em> am </em> glad to see you, Professor,” he said. “Really, I am, but we’ll have more time to talk once all this has been sorted out.”</p><p>He leaned down and took Trucy’s hand.</p><p>“See what you can figure out from this car while I try to explain this mess to that meathead’s boss,” he instructed. “Come on, Trucy.”</p><p>“Are you sure you’re okay, Dad?” Trucy asked as her father towed her through the carriage. “Daddy, wait up!”</p><p>If Phoenix replied, it was out of the two Englishmen’s earshot.</p><p>Layton readjusted his hat again.</p><p>“Well,” he said, “I can safely say I didn’t expect <em> that </em> man to be little Trucy’s father.”</p><p>Luke nodded in reply, and his gaze returned to the door.</p><p>“Did you notice it too, Professor?” he asked. “We didn’t know Mr Wright for very long, but I don’t remember him behaving like that except for after Ms Fey’s trial fiasco. He seems different. He seems…”</p><p>He trailed off as he searched for the right word.</p><p>“…tired,” Layton finished for him, cradling his chin in thought. “As though the past couple of years have been far harsher towards him than they have towards either of us.”</p><p>“He did <em> not </em> have a daughter when we were in Labyrinthia,” Luke recalled. “Did he? You’d think that’s something he would’ve brought up!”</p><p>Layton nodded in agreement.</p><p>“I’m sure we’ll have time to speak to him about it once this situation has settled down somewhat,” he stated. “In the meantime, do you think you can handle helping me investigate? Or would you rather go somewhere not quite so bloodstained?”</p><p>Luke suddenly remembered just what he was standing beside and his stomach did a backflip. He had almost forgotten in all that excitement and now the metallic stench of blood had returned to his nose with reinforcements.</p><p>“…I think I’ll be alright,” he lied, and he pressed a hand to his churning gut, wishing he hadn’t ordered such a large breakfast. “…if I feel especially sick, I’ll let you know.”</p><p>To his relief, Layton nodded in understanding.</p><p>“Very well, my boy,” he said. “Let’s get started, shall we?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Turnabout Tinnitus part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> Mr Wright’s hat </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - A bright blue hand-crocheted beanie used to blindfold Wright </em></p><p><em> Handcuffs </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Police issue cuffs (?) used to restrain Wright near the back of the freight car </em></p><p><em> Murder weapon (?) </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Most likely low calibre pistol, poss. purchased via black market (unconfirmed) </em></p><p><em> Notes on victim’s death </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Cause of death: single gunshot wound (to the ????). Time of death was roughly 8:45am </em></p><p><em> Cargo crate </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - A sturdy wooden box the defendant hid inside prior to discovery. Roughly 3.5ft tall, covered with a tarp. Contents unknown </em></p><p><em> Tarp </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Standard issue tarpaulin for protecting cargo. Used to cover the victim’s body. Formerly buckled to the floor. </em></p><p><em> Layton’s lantern </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - A small handheld police lantern belonging to Professor Layton. Beam reaches ~3m </em></p><p> </p><p>It was funny how Phoenix’s handwriting got neater and more coherent the smaller he was forced to write. He scratched his head under his hat with the tip of his pencil as he reread his short list of evidence.</p><p>Was there anything else he needed to add? He hadn’t been left a lot of time to investigate the crime scene, what with having to convince the driver to allow this impromptu trial to happen, so if there was anything else he had to enter in his facsimile of a Court Record, would it have to wait until it was brought up in “court”?</p><p>What else… what else…</p><p>Good thing he was doing this in pencil. This journal would end up a <em> mess </em> if he was constantly crossing things out to update the information and couldn’t just erase it.</p><p>Hmm, maybe it would be a good idea to list the key figures as well. He knew from experience how important it could be to know just who it was that had gotten themselves involved in a case. Who could say when this information would become vital?</p><p> </p><p><em> Phoenix Wright (age: 28) </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Acting defence attorney. I sure hope nobody back home finds out I’m doing this or else who knows how much trouble I’ll be in </em></p><p><em> Trucy Wright (age: 10) </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - My daughter, acting co-counsel and ray of sunshine. Thank god she didn’t look down while she was in the freight car </em></p><p><em> ______ _____ (age: ~11-13) </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - A stowaway on the train’s freight car and defendant in this case. Appears to not speak English (?) </em></p><p><em> Hershel Layton (age: 39) </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Acting investigator and witness who discovered the scene. Old friend (?). Part of me wishes he wasn’t here. </em></p><p><em> Luke Triton (age: 15) </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Old friend (?). Witness who discovered the scene. Supposedly visiting from America after a ~2-year absence </em></p><p><em> Officer _____ _________ (age: ??) </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - The victim in this case. A security officer on board the train. May have been involved in my abduction </em></p><p><em> Officer ______ Fenchurch (age: ??) </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Security officer who came upon the scene. Discovered and arrested the defendant upon sight </em></p><p> </p><p>Hmm, there were still quite a few blanks to fill in, but this would be enough for now.</p><p>“Hey, Dad?”</p><p>Phoenix paused in his writing to look up at his co-counsel as she closed the compartment door behind her.</p><p>“What’s up, Trucy-Goosy?” he asked.</p><p>“Are you sure you can do this?” she asked in return. “It’s been ages since you did any lawyery stuff! Do you even remember how to do it?”</p><p>Phoenix brushed over his writing to make sure it wouldn’t smudge the pages and closed his travel journal with a snap.</p><p>“I know I only had the job for around three years,” he told her, “but it’s the sort of thing you don’t easily forget. Not only that, but pretty much every superior I met told me I was a natural. If there’s anything that <em> did </em> slip my mind…”</p><p>He tucked his pencil behind his ear.</p><p>“…well, you’ve heard of learning on the job, haven’t you?”</p><p>“Don’t make yourself sound like a greenhorn!” Trucy exclaimed.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Phoenix fought back a snort of laughter. “I can handle it, I promise!”</p><p>His smile faded when he noticed the small redhead sitting beside the window, hugging her arm where Officer Fenchurch had manhandled her and staring out at the rolling hills as they zoomed past the train.</p><p>To his knowledge, the poor kid had yet to even acknowledge their existence. Perhaps she had whispered something to Trucy that he hadn’t heard because he was concentrating on writing up his impromptu Court Record? He had no idea.</p><p>“Has our client said anything yet?” he asked just in case.</p><p>“Uh-uh,” said Trucy with a shake of her head. “I’ve tried to talk to her, but when I do, she doesn’t say anything. She just keeps clutching her ears and crying.”</p><p>She glanced over at the girl.</p><p>As expected, no response. Not even a brief look in their direction.</p><p>“Mr Layton thinks she might be deaf,” Trucy added.</p><p>“Deaf?” Phoenix echoed.</p><p>He turned his travel journal over in his hands as he waited for the girl to say something again, even though he knew she almost certainly wouldn’t.</p><p>“I don’t think that makes much sense,” he said.</p><p>“Why not?” asked Trucy. “If she can’t hear us, then it explains why she won’t say anything!”</p><p>“A girl at her age?” Phoenix pointed out. “Trucy, it’s clear she’s older than you. Don’t you think that if <em> you </em>were deaf by now, you might have found some way to talk to people? You could…” He scratched his head under his hat. “…you would’ve learned to read lips to figure out what people are saying. You would’ve learned sign language. You’d at least think to write things down on paper or something, wouldn’t you?”</p><p>Trucy tapped on her chin.</p><p>“I guess that’s true,” she said, and hummed in thought as she looked over at the still-unresponsive girl. “Maybe she’s only recently gone deaf?”</p><p>“It’d have to be <em> very </em> recent if she can’t figure out how to talk to people,” said Phoenix. “You understand, don’t you, sweetie?”</p><p>His daughter nodded.</p><p>“There’s something weird going on here,” he pondered.</p><p>“And you’re going to get to the bottom of it!” Trucy piped up. “Right, Dad?”</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm.</p><p>“I make no promises,” he chuckled, “but I’ll try my best. If it comes to it, we could assume she has some kind of aphasia.”</p><p>“…what’s that?”</p><p>Trucy cocked her head in curiosity.</p><p>“Aphasia?” said Phoenix. “It’s… um, well…”</p><p>He frowned, wracking his brain for the right kind of phrasing. How exactly was someone supposed to explain things like this to a ten-year-old in a way she could understand? Can’t do words good? No, that would just insult her. She was far too bright for that. Didn’t know how to English? Struggled in processing written and/or spoken language? Hmm…</p><p>“You know what dyslexia is, don’t you?” he asked just in case.</p><p>To his dismay, Trucy frowned.</p><p>“No,” she replied.</p><p>Phoenix sighed and forced back a grimace of annoyance.</p><p>“What’re they teaching you at school?” he grumbled, and he pulled his professional face back up. “Listen, I don’t know how much time we have right now, so I’ll tell you when all this is over and done with, okay?”</p><p>“Okay, Daddy!”</p><p>Good lord.</p><p>Trucy’s smile could melt Siberian permafrost without even trying.</p><p>It was no wonder she was so enthusiastic about performing on stage. She was already her own kind of star, Phoenix considered.</p><p>He opened up his travel journal again to read over the entries one last time. Everything seemed to be in order. If only they could figure out the names of all these other people. There was <em> so much </em>here that he just didn’t have any clue about.</p><p>Before he had a chance to get properly annoyed about it, he was startled by a knock on the door, which slid open to reveal a somewhat less welcome face.</p><p>“Oi, Barrister,” Officer Fenchurch spat. “Get out here so we can get this circus started.”</p><p>Phoenix snapped his journal shut again as he stood up.</p><p>“Is my co-counsel ready?” he asked his baby girl.</p><p>“I’m by your side all the way, Daddy!” Trucy declared as she leapt to her feet. “Now let’s dazzle the crowd with speed and ferocity!”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Phoenix took Trucy’s hand as they entered the dining car so that they wouldn’t be separated. Together they pushed through the throng of onlookers towards the area that had been converted into the makeshift courtroom.</p><p>It wasn’t much – an open space with a baseball diamond-like arrangement of tables for the benches and witness stand – but it was the best they could do on such short notice and, admittedly, a very tidy setup considering they were on a moving train.</p><p>As he approached his side of the carriage, Phoenix noticed a middle-aged woman in a day-glow vest but no checker-banded hat discussing something with a similarly attired man who <em> did </em> have that hat. He thought back on the negotiations he’d had to suffer through and recalled… yeah, that was the train’s lead conductor. She was in charge of driving this train.</p><p>“Daddy?” Trucy asked next to him. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for the driver to be the judge?”</p><p>“She doesn’t know any of us personally,” Phoenix explained, “so she can be impartial and-”</p><p>“No, that’s not what I mean!” Trucy complained. “Who’s driving the train if she’s here?”</p><p>“Trains this big will have more than one person who can drive it,” Phoenix informed her, and saw in the corner of his eye as the driver took her seat. “You don’t want this many people getting stranded if something happens to the main driver, do you? Especially somewhere as wet and cold as England in January. It’d be a disaster!”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s true,” Trucy said with a thoughtful tap on her chin, “and I guess a disaster <em> has </em> happened, huh?”</p><p>“…erm…”</p><p>They both looked over at the “judge’s” seat, where the driver – the embroidered patch on her vest indicated that her name was Carrie – was looking around the dining car with a face of unmistakable discomfort.</p><p>“Is something wrong, ma’am?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>“I, erm…” She picked up and examined the latte glass that had been chosen to act as a gavel. “I’m not entirely sure how this is meant to go.”</p><p>“Oh! Uh…” Of course, they couldn’t expect her to just know what to do right off the bat, could they? People went to school for <em> years </em>to learn how to do this. There were all kinds of exams and stuff! “Usually the judge opens by slamming his gavel and declaring court in session and who the trial is in session for.”</p><p>“Ah, okay,” the driver said with a nod of understanding, but her face quickly fell again. “Who is the trial in session for?”</p><p>“Our apologies, Your Honour!”</p><p>Phoenix cringed at the familiar sound of that snivelly voice emanating from the ‘prosecutor’s bench’.</p><p>“The defendant has thus far refused to reveal her name,” Prosecutor Flynch continued. “Regardless, I believe we should initiate the trial forthwith so that I can return to my book of crosswords!”</p><p>“Y-yes, of course!” The driver tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.</p><p>Flynch, meanwhile, fixed the defence bench with the most condescending smirk either of them had ever seen and straightened his vividly patterned bow tie.</p><p>“Hey, Daddy?” Trucy tugged on the bottom of her father’s hoodie. “Do you know that prosecutor man?”</p><p>“I went up against him the last time I was in England,” Phoenix told her. “You remember, don’t you? That trip I told you about. The time I came to Britain with Auntie Maya.”</p><p>“Oooh! I remember!” Trucy lit up again. “You mean that League of Attorneys exchange thing?”</p><p>“Yeah, it was that,” said Phoenix. “I have to admit I’m a bit surprised to see him <em> here </em> though.”</p><p>“But there are loads of trains here in England,” Trucy pointed out. “Not like back home, right? I’ve heard some people really like trains over here! If he was going to be on one of them today, why <em> couldn’t </em> it be this one?”</p><p>Phoenix shrugged.</p><p>“You aren’t wrong,” he concluded.</p><p>“Then if nobody else has anything left to say…”</p><p>Driver Carrie slammed the base of her glass on the table she sat at. The sound was enough to silence the entire carriage in moments.</p><p>“Court is now in session for the trial of…” She frowned. “…whatever her name is. The stowaway.”</p><p>“The prosecution is ready, Your Honour!” Flynch declared proudly.</p><p>“The defence is ready, Your Honour,” said Phoenix.</p><p>“Oh goodness, I’m being called Your Honour!” The driver smiled and her face flushed pink. “I can’t wait to tell Laurie about this when I get home, she is <em> never </em> going to believe-”</p><p>“Um, Daddy?”</p><p>“Yeah, Truce?”</p><p>Phoenix looked down at his little girl, who leaned forward and thumped her chin onto the tabletop while glaring up at him in frustration.</p><p>“I can hardly see,” she complained.</p><p>“Oh!” Phoenix gasped. “Uh…” He cast his eyes around the makeshift courtroom and pointed down at the red top hat. “Can someone please pass me a box for my co-counsel to stand on? Maybe a milk crate or something?”</p><p>“Of course, Mr…” The driver looked at him expectantly.</p><p>“Wright,” Phoenix clarified.</p><p>“Of course, Mr Wright,” she replied, and looked out at the ‘gallery’ of passengers. “Can someone please pass the defence a chair?”</p><p>“Yes, of course!”</p><p>“Hang on, they’re stacked together pretty tight- there we go!”</p><p>“Over here!”</p><p>“Watch your head!”</p><p>“Careful, you almost poked me in the face!”</p><p>The chair was passed over the heads of the onlookers and into Phoenix’s hands, and he set it down behind the table that had become their bench. Trucy hopped up onto it with the proudest little smile she could manage.</p><p>Phoenix fought back his own smile at her happiness as he returned his attention to the court.</p><p>“<em> Now </em> the defence is ready, Your Honour,” he said.</p><p>“Hmph!” Flynch huffed. “Just as unprofessional as I remember you, Mr Wright. You haven’t even bothered to clean yourself up!”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t move. He considered running his hand over his unshaved cheek, but it was better not to offer <em> any </em> indication of response. People like this guy would leap on that in a second.</p><p>“I certainly hope you didn’t think I had forgotten the defeat I suffered at your hands two years ago!” Flynch continued regardless. “I look forward to seeing how you have grown as a lawyer.”</p><p>He adjusted his glasses in the slowest, most painstaking way possible.</p><p>“If, of course, you <em> have </em> in the time since then.”</p><p>God, his voice was so slimy, it could be used as glue.</p><p>“Daddy!” Trucy whispered hoarsely. “You aren’t just going to stand there and take that, are you?”</p><p>Phoenix simply rested his hands in his hoodie’s pockets.</p><p>“Is the prosecution going to give its opening statement or what?” he asked. “Of course, it’s usually the judge’s duty to request that…”</p><p>He looked over at the judge’s seat.</p><p>“Oh, is it?” the ‘judge’ gasped. “I’m sorry, I’m still very new to this! So then, um…” She turned to the prosecution’s side of the room. “…could the prosecution please provide an opening statement to the court?”</p><p>“But of course, Your Honour,” Flynch said proudly, and he pulled himself up to his fullest, skinniest height. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the… ah… 7:15am express service from King’s Cross Station to Aberdeen. A murder most foul was committed on this very train not one hour prior and the primary suspect has already been identified. Fear not, good people! By the time this barely adequate mimic of a trial is finished, no doubt shall remain that this cowardly stowaway deserves to be punished to the fullest extent of the law!”</p><p>Phoenix cast his eyes over the gallery as they chatted amongst themselves. They were too quiet for him to make out individual words, but he could feel the suspicion hanging heavy in the air like a cloying toxic gas waiting to choke him to death.</p><p>“Wow, Daddy,” Trucy muttered. “What the heck did you do to this guy?”</p><p>“All I did was beat him in court once!” Phoenix hoarsely responded. “It’s not my fault if every prosecutor I meet takes their job way too seriously!”</p><p>“In order to discuss this young lady’s guilt,” Flynch continued, “please allow me to call the first witness to the, ah… table.”</p><p>Phoenix took a deep breath.</p><p>“Okay, Nick,” he mumbled to himself. “Just take it easy, you can do this. You’ve done it a million times. You can do this. You’ll be fine. You’ll be <em> fine</em>.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He stood at the witness stand – actually a table with its contents cleared save for its cloth – holding the brim of his hat down over his eyes.</p><p>“Witness!” said Flynch. “Please state your name and profession for the court.”</p><p>The witness in question raised his brim with a smile, almost like he was revelling in the drama of the act.</p><p>“My name is Hershel Layton,” he proclaimed to the court. “I am a professor of archaeology and a teacher at Gressenheller University and, on the odd occasion, an investigative assistant to detectives at Scotland Yard.”</p><p>The gallery lit up with whispers again, but several of them weren’t making as much effort to be quiet as others.</p><p>“Wow, <em> the </em>Professor Layton?”</p><p>“That guy who shows up in the newspapers? No way!”</p><p>“Wasn’t he on the last series of Time Team? We NEED to get a photo with him after this!”</p><p>“Yes, he was! I’d recognise that hat anywhere!”</p><p>“He’s a lot shorter than I’d expected.”</p><p>“Wow, he’s so much more handsome in real life!”</p><p>Layton let out a surprised little chuckle.</p><p>“And it would appear my reputation precedes me,” he remarked.</p><p>“Order!” The judge slammed her glass on her table. “Order in the court! The gallery shall refrain from gossiping about any witnesses who take the stand!”</p><p>She leaned over her table in Phoenix’s direction.</p><p>“Did I do that right?” she asked quietly.</p><p>“You’re doing great, Your Honour,” Phoenix replied.</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>Phoenix sighed at the sound of that squeaky, creaky shout. Never before had he considered that a person’s <em> voice </em>could be in desperate need of oiling.</p><p>“Could the defence kindly refrain from manipulating the judge through flattery?” Flynch demanded.</p><p>The judge leaned back in her chair, face flushed, as Phoenix rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, sure,” he groaned. “Sorry.”</p><p>Flynch cleared his throat, and Phoenix forced back a smile at the sight of his uncertainty.</p><p>“Very well, then,” the prosecutor said awkwardly. “If the witness could explain his findings to the court?”</p><p>“Of course,” said the Professor.</p><p>He drew himself up to the fullest of his height - all five foot three of it, if Phoenix cared to estimate - and adjusted his hat one last time. Phoenix opened up his journal and drew his pencil to fill in any of the blanks he had been forced to leave.</p><p>“To begin with,” Layton started, “I believe we can safely rule out robbery as a motive, as I discovered in my investigation that the victim still had his wallet safely tucked into his back pocket. From the contents of that wallet, I was able to ascertain that his name is David Liverpool, aged 34. He was, as his uniform suggested, employed as a railway security officer.”</p><p>“So I guess we can rule out the idea he was posing, huh?” Trucy muttered.</p><p>Phoenix entered the name <em> David Liverpool </em> into the blanks in the short biography he’d jotted down for the victim.</p><p>“For now, I guess,” he replied. “Don’t take forged documents off the table just yet.”</p><p>He kept the journal open as he looked up at the Professor.</p><p>“I will confess that my expertise is more in the field of those who passed away a hundred years ago or more,” Layton stated, “but I took the liberty of examining the victim’s corpse all the same. I believe the cause of death to have been a single gunshot wound to the neck, which pierced the jugular veins.”</p><p>He tugged his scarf aside and pressed his finger against the side of his neck to indicate the wound’s location.</p><p>“He likely bled out within a matter of minutes,” he continued as he straightened his scarf. “Judging by additional factors in the state of his body when he was discovered, I would assume time of death to be somewhere in the vicinity of 8:45am, give or take a minute. The size of the entry and exit wounds indicates a handgun of relatively average size, perhaps a .22 calibre.”</p><p>Phoenix’s pencil raced across the page to update the notes he had taken about the victim.</p><p>“I’m afraid I cannot provide any definitive information regarding Officer Liverpool’s death,” Layton continued, “as the circumstances of this crime have resulted in a very limited investigation.”</p><p>The acting defence attorney sighed in relief as he finished writing.</p><p>“This is <em> not </em> what I expected to use my travel journal for,” he commented. “I hope the customs guys don’t ask to read it when we’re trying to get back home again.”</p><p>“But it’s more fun than ‘went to a castle, saw a ghost, puked on a rollercoaster before it even went down the first hill’ right, Daddy?”</p><p>He passed a glare to his co-counsel.</p><p>“Truce, are you <em> ever </em> going to let me live that down?” he asked.</p><p>“Nope!” Trucy replied happily.</p><p>“Has your investigation turned up a murder weapon, by any chance?” asked Flynch.</p><p>“I’m afraid not,” said Layton. “Nor can I say for certain that experience in firearms was required for the gunshot to be fatal. As I haven’t been able to determine the true angle of entry or the calibre of the bullet, it’s impossible to tell whether or not the defendant would have been able to use the necessary weapon. I specify the defendant and the calibre of the weapon because, for a girl of her size, using a high-calibre firearm could in fact be rather dangerous. An especially powerful kickback could result in a dislocated shoulder.”</p><p>He raised his hand to his hat again as he frowned.</p><p>“I can, however,” he said, “confirm that she did <em> not </em> possess the weapon at the time she was apprehended.”</p><p>“Interesting.” The judge cupped her wrist and tapped a finger on her chin. “Has the scene been searched for the weapon yet?”</p><p>“I can safely say that attempts have been made, Your Honour,” Layton replied. “Bear in mind that the scene in question is a freight carriage for transporting luggage and cargo. Not only that, but it’s rather well stocked. There are any number of bags, boxes or crates that could be used to hide a firearm. I’ve made sure to notify the proper authorities, so a thorough search can be conducted as soon as we arrive in Aberdeen. The use of X-rays should make the process smoother than invading every single passenger’s privacy in a more direct and potentially messy manner.”</p><p>Naturally this led to more low-level gossip among the passengers in question. No doubt quite a number of them would have preferred <em> not </em> to see police officers rifling through belongings they had to be separated from for almost eight hours.</p><p>“Hey, Mr Layton?” said Trucy, and the Professor’s eyes turned in her direction. “What if the gun got tossed out a window?”</p><p>Phoenix considered this for a moment. It definitely wasn’t impossible, was it? There were crazier methods of murder weapon disposal, after all.</p><p>“Professor, what do you think?” he asked.</p><p>“An interesting hypothesis, young lady,” said Layton. “One that I don’t believe we can confirm or rule out, I’m afraid, until the freight car has been thoroughly searched.”</p><p>He turned back to the court at large.</p><p>“The suspect is a young girl who was discovered hiding in a crate in the freight car,” he explained. “I estimate her to be a preteen, perhaps around eleven or twelve years old. We’ve been unable to communicate with her thus far, as she is either mute or refuses to speak, but for the moment it appears that she’s a stowaway. Unless, perhaps…”</p><p>He looked back in the direction of the father-daughter duo.</p><p>“…the defence can conceive of some other reason why she would have hidden herself in there,” he added with a smile.</p><p>Phoenix replied with a nod of recognition.</p><p>“Thank you for providing an outline of the case, Mr Layton,” he said in his most professional voice. “If the prosecution has nothing more to add, you’re free to step down.”</p><p>“Indeed, the prosecution has nothing more to add,” said Flynch. “Thank you for your time, Professor.”</p><p>“HOLD IT!”</p><p>Trucy slammed her foot on the table before her, causing Layton to freeze in the middle of turning away.</p><p>“We haven’t cross-examined the witness yet!” she argued with a scowl.</p><p>“Not this time, Trucy.” Phoenix gently pushed her foot off the tabletop.</p><p>“Huh?” Her face fell. “Why not?”</p><p>“The Professor technically isn’t a witness here,” her father explained to her. “He’s acting as the detective giving an outline of his findings. There isn’t anything subjective to dispute, so a cross-examination is unnecessary.”</p><p>“Aw…” Trucy groaned in disappointment.</p><p>“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Phoenix patted the top of her hat. “This trial has a long way to go before it’s over. You’ll get to help me cross-examine whoever’s up next, okay?”</p><p>“Oh!” And just like that, she brightened up. “Okay!”</p><p>“Is something wrong?” asked Layton.</p><p>“Not at all, Mr Layton,” said Phoenix. “You’re free to go.”</p><p>The Professor nodded with a smile and a tip of his hat, and he made his way back through the gallery and out of the dining car.</p><p>“I think I have a pretty clear understanding of what happened now.” The judge leaned her elbow on her table. “Do we need anything else or is it time for the verdict? I’m still not clear on how these things work. I’ve never been to an actual trial before. My Laurie once got requested for jury duty but-”</p><p>“I do have another witness to call, Your Honour,” said Flynch, cutting her off mid-ramble, “but I certainly won’t get in your way if you wish to hand down your verdict on this violent little delinquent.”</p><p>Phoenix rolled his eyes again. Prosecutors. So rare to find any with an ounce of patience.</p><p>“If there’s another witness, then we’d better listen to them, hadn’t we?” The judge straightened up in her chair. “Bring them in! By all means, bring them in!”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Witness,” said Flynch, “if you would be so kind as to provide your name and profession?”</p><p>The witness cleared his throat.</p><p>“My name is Luke Triton,” he responded, “and… um…”</p><p>His fingers fiddled with the toggles on his coat.</p><p>“Something the matter, Mr Triton?” asked Flynch.</p><p>“I’m just a little unsure,” said Luke. “Does ‘apprentice’ count as a profession or should I just tell the court that I’m a ‘high school student’?”</p><p>“There are plenty of jobs where ‘apprentice’ is a legit position,” Phoenix told him. “You’re fine.”</p><p>“Oh, okay!” Luke straightened up and gave the court a happy salute. “I’m Luke Triton, high school student and Professor Layton’s apprentice!”</p><p>Flynch, contrary to the new witness’s cheeriness, was frowning.</p><p>“The new school term has already started!” he pointed out. “Shouldn’t you be in class by now, young man? What in the world must your parents think of you?”</p><p>“Actually, I…” Luke started fiddling with his toggles again. “I’m from England, it’s true, but I’m only visiting the UK right now. See, I emigrated to America a couple of years ago and I’m back here because my dad had a conference to go to in London. I figured I could take advantage of it to spend time with the Professor again and, uh…”</p><p>He shrugged.</p><p>“Here I am, I guess.”</p><p>Flynch pushed up his glasses again, failing to mask his disappointment. Phoenix almost smiled at the sight.</p><p>“I suppose that’s acceptable,” the prosecutor sighed. “Very well, Mr Triton; please proceed with your testimony. Tell the court about the scene you discovered upon first entering this train’s freight carriage.”</p><p>Luke cleared his throat again.</p><p>“Okay,” he said, “here goes.”</p><p>Phoenix took a deep breath.</p><p>First witness testimony of the trial. Time to focus. He drew out his pencil and opened up his journal again so that he could take notes to refer to.</p><p>Luke straightened the cap on his head.</p><p>“I entered the freight car with the Professor and little Trucy,” he explained. “We were searching for her father and it was the only place we hadn’t looked. When we got in, we found Mr Wright handcuffed against the wall and the body of Officer Liverpool on the floor in front of him. The Professor and I covered the body with a tarpaulin from a nearby crate, and we were asking Mr Wright what had happened when Officer Fenchurch came upon the scene.”</p><p>The judge cupped her chin, leaning her elbow on her table, as Phoenix finished noting down the details in his messiest shorthand.</p><p>“I understand,” she said. “So Mr Wright, you had been taken hostage?”</p><p>“It would seem so, Your Honour,” Phoenix replied once he had finished writing, “although I can’t say I understand the reason behind it yet. I won’t be testifying as a witness though. Can’t have any conflicts of interest getting in the way of the defence or prosecution.”</p><p>“I see,” said the judge, nodding in understanding. “What happens now?”</p><p>“What- oh, uh…” Phoenix dragged himself back from the edge of confusion, reminding himself that this woman technically wasn’t even a judge. “Now is when the defence cross-examines the witness. We ask questions to expand on their testimony and get more specific details.”</p><p>“Ah!” Her face just barely lit up. “Alright, well…”</p><p>She trailed off, obviously not willing to admit she didn’t know what was meant to happen.</p><p>Phoenix tucked away his pencil again. It wouldn’t be a good idea to put it on the table and lose it when it rolled away to god knows where.</p><p>“It may be easier to show you,” he stated.</p><p>He turned to Trucy and nodded in Luke’s direction. She smiled; time to cross-examine. Phoenix reminded himself of what the first statement was and turned back to Luke.</p><p>“How exactly did you gain entry to the freight car?” he asked.</p><p>“I…” Luke laughed nervously and tried to loosen his scarf. “…I’m not sure if I should say…”</p><p>“It’s okay, Luke!” Trucy piped up. “We had probable cause, like I said!”</p><p>“Oh, right!” Luke could have collapsed from relief. “Trucy picked the lock on the door. We didn’t have any choice but to break in.”</p><p>Phoenix cast a fond glance back at his daughter.</p><p>“Is there any reason you didn’t think to notify a security officer?” he asked all the same.</p><p>“Um…” Luke started fiddling with his toggles again. “Trucy had already made up her mind about picking the lock and I… uh… didn’t want her to get into trouble by telling one of the cops. She ran on ahead of us and she’d already made a start on the door by the time the Professor and I caught up with her.”</p><p>“That makes sense,” said the judge, “but I think this Trucy should refrain from breaking through locked doors in the future if she wants to avoid an ASBO.”</p><p>She fixed the defence bench with a <em> very </em> pointed look.</p><p>“Aww,” Trucy groaned.</p><p>Phoenix scribbled these details down in his journal. The fact that he didn’t know what this ASBO thing was or what would happen if Trucy got one didn’t really matter at this point.</p><p>“So you had already searched the whole train before coming to the freight car?” he asked. “That must’ve taken quite a while.”</p><p>Luke managed a small, embarrassed smile.</p><p>“Yes, it did,” he admitted. “We were beginning to wonder if somehow you weren’t on board anymore.”</p><p>Phoenix almost dropped his pencil.</p><p>“Just what kind of daredevil do you think I am?!” he demanded. “This train’s got to be moving at least 60mph!”</p><p>“We weren’t <em> seriously </em> considering it!” Luke insisted. “A-at least, I don’t think the Professor was…”</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t avoid a sigh.</p><p>“Nice to know you think so highly of me,” he groaned.</p><p>“Daddy!” Trucy tugged on his sleeve. “If you ever want to try a proper disappearing act, just let me know! I’ve been DYING to try one out with you!”</p><p>And there she was, lighting him up again.</p><p>“Thanks for the offer, Trucy,” said Phoenix, and he reached under her hat to ruffle her hair. “Maybe when we get home.”</p><p>He glanced down at his notes on the testimony again.</p><p>“So I was the first thing you saw?” he asked.</p><p>“Your hat’s pretty bright, Mr Wright,” Luke confirmed. “It was practically glowing in the dark when we noticed you.”</p><p>“I chose the brightest wool I could find in case I ever lost him in a crowd!” Trucy proclaimed.</p><p>“I guess you never considered losing me on a train, huh?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>“But I found you again and that’s what matters!”</p><p>“Heh. You’re not wrong.”</p><p>“OBJECTION!” Flynch’s voice was like a slimy nail on a chalkboard. “The defence is requested to refrain from heartwarming family bonding during the cross-examination!”</p><p>Phoenix sighed. It looked like <em> this </em> guy hadn’t changed a bit.</p><p>Okay, next thing to question…</p><p>“What was your initial assumption when you first noticed the victim’s body?” he asked.</p><p>Luke stroked his chin while he thought.</p><p>“Um… hmm,” he hummed. “My... um… my initial assumption was that there had been a murder.”</p><p>Phoenix almost punched himself. Of <em> course </em> that was what the reply would be.</p><p>“I mean in terms of suspects, Mr Triton,” he corrected himself, and tried to keep his annoyance at himself to a minimum. “Did your mind go to anybody in particular?”</p><p>The teen fiddled with his toggles again.</p><p>“I did wonder for a moment if <em> you </em>were responsible, Mr Wright,” he confessed, “but given your situation, I… I reconsidered rather quickly.”</p><p>Phoenix nodded. With the mess the poor boy had come across, that was hardly a surprise.</p><p>“And the defendant?” he asked.</p><p>“At the time I wasn’t sure how Mr Liverpool…”</p><p>Luke trailed off.</p><p>Was that a touch of green in his cheeks?</p><p>“…how the victim had died,” he managed. “I couldn’t be sure if that girl was responsible, especially since she’s so young.”</p><p>Phoenix hesitated in his note taking. He tapped the eraser end of his pencil on the page he had been writing on as he thought over the statement.</p><p>“If you were to add that to your testimony,” he said, “how would you phrase it?”</p><p>Luke eyed him with a puzzled frown.</p><p>“Well, I suppose…” He cleared his throat. “We had no idea whether or not the girl in the crate was responsible for the murder when we first went in.”</p><p>There it was.</p><p>Honestly, it was inevitable. This was the story of Phoenix’s life. It was very rare that he cross-examined a witness who didn’t let a contradiction slip into their testimony, unknowingly or otherwise.</p><p>Time to call it out.</p><p>He tapped on his journal again, but a little more emphatically this time.</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>“What is it, Daddy?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“I just have one question for you, Luke,” Phoenix said, lowering his journal to the table for the time being.</p><p>Luke gulped. His cheeks were still tinged with green.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” he said nervously.</p><p>“How <em> could </em> you be sure if the girl in the crate was responsible if you couldn’t even see her when you first walked in?”</p><p>Luke frowned.</p><p>“W-what do you mean?” he stammered.</p><p>The crowd behind him chattered again, their voices blurred together and indistinct.</p><p>“Oh!” Trucy gasped in realisation. “Oh, Daddy! Nobody could see inside the crate, could they?”</p><p>Phoenix nodded, forcing himself not to grin with pride at his daughter’s intelligence.</p><p>“What my co-counsel said is true,” he said, and wished he had a photo to pull up. “That crate is solid wood and it was covered with an opaque tarp that was buckled to the floor. Now tell me, Mr Triton…”</p><p>He picked up his journal again and held it up to drive his point home.</p><p>“…did you have any idea that the girl was in there until she was pulled out?”</p><p>Luke bowed his head in shame.</p><p>“No, I…” he said weakly, “…I suppose I didn’t.”</p><p>“Luke, I’m surprised!” said Phoenix in his most performative dramatic voice. “I wouldn’t have expected you to forget something like that!”</p><p>“I-I’m sorry, Mr Wright,” Luke replied. “I think my mind’s elsewhere this morning. Maybe I…” He failed to restrain a yawn. “…maybe I’m just tired.”</p><p>Damn, if that didn’t summarise Phoenix’s mood in the most perfect way.</p><p>“It’s fine, Luke,” he said. “I know it’s only about ten in the morning, but it’s already been one <em> heck </em> of a long day.”</p><p>Luke pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes. Well, tried to. It wasn’t quite wide enough for him to hide himself entirely.</p><p>“I can’t believe I made a mistake like that,” he groaned.</p><p>“You can clear things up with your next testimony, pet,” the driver said gently. “How about telling us about when you <em> did </em> find our defendant?”</p><p>After a brief glance at both of the lawyers, Luke responded with a nod.</p><p>“Yes,” he said, and struggled to stifle another yawn. “Yes, okay.”</p><p>Right, okay. Testimony number two. Thank god things were moving along so quickly.</p><p>Phoenix opened his journal and stood poised with his pencil at the ready.</p><p>“I didn’t notice her in the crate when we first took the tarpaulin off it,” Luke explained. “I was more focused on getting Officer Liverpool’s body covered as soon as possible. I’m really glad the tarp didn’t get carried away on a draught. I didn’t want to spend any longer in that car than I had to.”</p><p>It was a very reasonable position, Phoenix considered. Even their judge seemed to agree.</p><p>“Yes, I can understand that,” she said. “My dear Laurie can’t <em> stand </em> the sight of blood.”</p><p>“It wasn’t really the <em> sight </em> of the blood as much as…” Luke trailed off again, and this time his hand slipped into his coat and he clutched at his stomach. “…n-never mind.”</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>“I’m fine! I’m fine, I promise!”</p><p>The driver frowned, obviously not believing a word he said.</p><p>“If you say so, pet,” she said. “Okay, defence, go ahead.”</p><p>Phoenix checked the notes he had jotted down during the testimony.</p><p>“Do you think you could explain why you didn’t notice the girl in the crate when you first opened it?”</p><p>Luke took his hand out of his coat and rubbed his chin in thought. It seemed like keeping the topic of conversation away from blood, especially the sheer amount of it that had been on that floor, would be the best course of action for now.</p><p>“It’s pretty dark in there,” he explained. “There are no windows in that carriage and the Professor had to put his lantern down so we could get the tarp off. I didn’t look <em> into </em> the crate, but even if I had, I don’t think I would’ve seen anything. It’d have been pitch black in there.”</p><p>Phoenix thought back to the voiceless girl’s appearance.</p><p>“The defendant is wearing a bright yellow jacket and her hair is blaze orange,” he pointed out. “I don’t think <em> I </em>could have missed that.”</p><p>“Mr Wright, you were blindfolded!” Luke argued back. “Who’re you to talk?”</p><p>“He’s got you there, Dad,” said Trucy, and Phoenix could swear he heard her shrugging.</p><p>He quickly scrawled these details down in the journal and tried to ignore the world turning against him.</p><p>Like it always did.</p><p>“I guess it wasn’t really my place to comment on that,” he decided. “Did you take any time to examine the body before covering it?”</p><p>“N-no!” Luke spluttered. “No, I didn’t! I-I really didn’t want to go anywhere near it!” The green flush returned to his cheeks with reinforcements. “Even thinking about all that blood is making me queasy. I swear I can still smell it…”</p><p>He pressed a hand to his mouth, looking almost as though he was tearing up.</p><p>So he didn’t go anywhere near the body save for when he helped to cover it with that tarpaulin, did he?</p><p>That tarpaulin…</p><p>Phoenix tapped on the journal again and hummed in thought.</p><p>“Think you’ve got something, Daddy?” asked Trucy.</p><p>He gave her a wink and then turned back to Luke.</p><p>“You said earlier that the tarp was buckled to the floor,” he recalled. “Is that correct?”</p><p>Luke frowned, clearly suspicious of where this was headed.</p><p>“Yes, it is,” he said. “I had to catch it when it sprang free. It was tied down pretty tight in there.”</p><p>“But that’s rather odd, don’t you think?”</p><p>The boy’s frown deepened.</p><p>“What do you mean?” he asked.</p><p>Phoenix had to hold himself back from pacing behind the ‘bench’. He had a feeling it wouldn’t go over well with the rest of the ‘court’.</p><p>“Let’s assume,” he said, “just for the sake of argument, that the defendant is the one who killed our victim. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t see her exiting the crate between when you covered the body and when you saw her being pulled out, did you?”</p><p>Luke blinked in confusion.</p><p>“No, I think I would’ve noticed,” he said. “I know it was dark in there, but we would’ve heard her moving. What are you getting at?”</p><p>Didn’t see her, didn’t hear her… there was only one plausible explanation for that.</p><p>“Then we can agree that she was already inside the crate before you came across the scene,” Phoenix said, “correct?”</p><p>Luke jumped in surprise with a cry of “Ah!” as he suddenly understood.</p><p>It was difficult not to smile at this familiar satisfaction.</p><p>“It seems you’ve noticed it too,” said Phoenix. “Even a preteen girl of her size would have a considerable amount of trouble climbing into a crate with a solid, undamaged tarpaulin pulled tight across its top. Not only that but I estimate that crate to be roughly three and a half feet tall.”</p><p>He closed his journal with a snap. Seemed he wouldn’t need it for the time being.</p><p>“Even someone of my height would have trouble climbing into that,” he pointed out, “and that’s if it <em> wasn’t </em> covered by a tarp.”</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>All eyes turned to the prosecution.</p><p>“The victim had already been dead for at least ten minutes before the witness arrived on the scene!” Flynch pointed out. “That leaves more than enough of an opening for the defendant to conceal herself in that crate!”</p><p>Phoenix rested one of his hands in his jacket pocket. He knew some prosecutors could be ignorant, but <em> wow</em>.</p><p>“Uh…” he said slowly, “…no.”</p><p>“Excuse me?!” Flynch exclaimed.</p><p>“Recall another detail the witness told us about,” said Phoenix, holding up his journal to drive his point home. “’I had to catch it when it sprang free. It was tied down pretty tight.’ Can you explain, Prosecutor Flynch, how that would be possible?”</p><p>He lowered his journal and tossed it onto the table.</p><p>“Again,” he continued, “let’s assume that the defendant was able to climb back inside the crate after killing Officer Liverpool. Even if she was able to wriggle her way in between the tarp and the crate’s lip, don’t you think doing so would loosen the tarp quite a lot?”</p><p>“But- OH!” Flynch cried in alarm.</p><p>“Exactly,” said Phoenix. “How could she have tightened that tarp back up if she was already inside it?”</p><p>“Then…” Flynch tried to regain his composure. “Then YOU must have done it!”</p><p>Phoenix raised an eyebrow in query.</p><p>“The only other person inside the freight car was you!” the prosecutor insisted.</p><p>“…seriously?” Phoenix felt like groaning again.</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>The shout hadn’t come from beside Phoenix and certainly not from Phoenix himself, but neither had it come from the prosecution’s bench.</p><p>All eyes turned to the witness stand.</p><p>“…sorry,” said Luke, “but you guys were already doing it and it just looked like a lot of fun, so I thought I could, um....”</p><p>“Well, you’ve started, so you should finish,” the judge told him with a pleasant smile, and Phoenix couldn’t help feeling like he was missing out on an in-joke.</p><p>Luke cleared his throat again, the greenness in his cheeks thankfully ebbing away.</p><p>“It’s, uh…” He tugged at his scarf, suddenly embarrassed now that he was the centre of attention again. “It’s not possible for Mr Wright to have refastened the tarp once that girl was back inside. He was tied up with handcuffs and his hat was pulled down over his face! Mr Wright!”</p><p>He turned to Phoenix with his eyes wide in something resembling desperation.</p><p>“Mr Wright, do you even know how to put handcuffs on?” he asked.</p><p>Again, Phoenix suppressed a smile. <em> This </em> was a pleasant surprise.</p><p>“I can safely say that no, I don’t,” he said. “I don’t even have a clue how they work.”</p><p>He held his hands up in front of him, wrists pressed together, trying to demonstrate his point.</p><p>“Even if I could see what I was doing,” he elaborated, “I’m definitely not flexible enough to cuff myself and then do that stepping-through-my-arms thing I see people doing in movies.”</p><p>“Plus there’s the, um…” This time Luke visibly stifled a gag. “…all that blood. There was blood all over the floor!”</p><p>He slammed his hands on the table to drive his point home.</p><p>“There’s no way Mr Wright could have refastened the tarp and sat back where he was without stepping in Mr Liverpool’s blood! Mr Wright, could you maybe, uh…”</p><p>Phoenix nodded. He knew what Luke needed.</p><p>“In the time before this trial,” he said calmly, “I haven’t had any chance to clean my shoes.”</p><p>He lifted his foot onto the table, trying to hide the fact that he was balancing against the wall, and presented the sole of his foot to the court.</p><p>“Bloodless,” he pointed out. “And I think you and the Professor would’ve noticed if I’d left any footprints, wouldn’t you?”</p><p>Luke bowed his head again, but this time in relief and with a mutter of “thank goodness”.</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>And with that, the attention returned to Flynch.</p><p>“Let’s not forget that the victim was killed by a gunshot wound from an as-yet undiscovered pistol,” he reminded the court. “It’s quite possible that said pistol was fired from inside the crate! All the defendant would have to do is slip the barrel between the crate’s lip and the tarpaulin and then pull the trigger!”</p><p>He straightened his tie again with the smuggest possible grin.</p><p>“And if we discover that the side of that crate has a hole in it,” he said, “as quite a number of wooden planks are wont to have, then not even <em> that </em> would have been necessary!”</p><p>Phoenix frowned. He snatched up his journal to check his notes again.</p><p>“Uh-oh…”</p><p>He looked over at Trucy.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” he asked.</p><p>“That’s a pretty good point,” she said. “She might’ve not even had to aim! Dad, maybe she wasn’t even trying to hurt anyone! She’s a stowaway, right? She might’ve just been trying to scare people away so they didn’t find her!”</p><p>The prosecutor’s laugh dripped with sleaze as the gathered gallery of passengers began muttering amongst themselves again.</p><p>“Quite an intelligent little co-counsel you’ve got there, Mr Wright,” Flynch said smarmily. “Perhaps you would prefer to let <em> her </em> take over the proceedings from here on?”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t restrain his groan this time, and he accompanied it by rubbing his face.</p><p>“Why is it always like this?” he muttered in exasperation.</p><p>The clacking of the judge slamming her glass on her tabletop came as some of the most welcome relief he’d had all morning.</p><p>“Can everyone please calm down for a moment?” she requested.</p><p>It was tempting to speak up and point out that she was supposed to yell “Order!” but the dining car fell silent anyway, so it would probably have just looked rude.</p><p>“I’ll be the first to admit I’m not completely familiar with courtroom proceedings,” Driver Carrie confessed, “but I’m fairly sure they aren’t meant to be this chaotic!”</p><p>Trucy just <em> barely </em> managed to stifle a snort of laughter, and Phoenix couldn’t help admiring her restraint.</p><p>“As far as I can tell,” the judge continued, “there’s one very simple way to sort these issues out and, quite frankly, I’m astounded at both of you for not noticing it sooner.”</p><p>Phoenix straightened himself up.</p><p>“And what would that be, Your Honour?” he asked.</p><p>The judge shrugged.</p><p>“Why don’t we just ask the defendant?”</p><p>Oh dear.</p><p>She didn’t know, did she?</p><p>They hadn’t filled her in on all the details about this girl, had they? On the fact that no matter what, she seemed to almost obstinately refuse to speak to anybody about who she was or what had happened.</p><p>“…well…” he started weakly.</p><p>“You said yourself that she’s a preteen girl,” the judge reminded him. “I’m sure that if we just ask her politely, she’d be more than happy to tell us the truth!”</p><p>“The defendant has refused to speak to <em> anybody</em>, Your Honour,” Flynch said. “We have yet to establish <em> any </em> direct line of communication with the girl.”</p><p>“It’s possible she has some form of aphasia,” Phoenix added. “The defence has also speculated that she may be deaf. In any case, she hasn’t spoken a word since she was discovered by Officer Fenchurch.”</p><p>The judge sighed.</p><p>“The poor dear’s probably frightened!” she said. “I can’t imagine how terrifying this whole situation must be for a child of her age!”</p><p>“Your Honour, please don’t forget that this girl is a stowaway!” said Flynch. “Even if she is somehow proved not guilty of murder, she is still <em> very </em> guilty of trespassing and fare evasion!”</p><p>“She’s still a <em> person</em>, Mr Flynch,” the judge said firmly, “and she deserves to be respected as such. Whether she’s a criminal or not, she deserves a chance for us to hear what she has to say.”</p><p>Now it was the prosecution’s turn to sigh in disdain.</p><p>“Does the defence have any objections?” he asked.</p><p>Phoenix rested his hands back in his pockets.</p><p>“I don’t know how we’ll be able to convince this girl to talk,” he said, “but being put on the witness stand might just be the kick in the butt she needs.”</p><p>He turned to his co-counsel.</p><p>“Trucy,” he said, “what do you think?”</p><p>Trucy tapped her chin, eyebrows knotted in uncertainty.</p><p>“I don’t know,” she replied. “Like the driver judge lady said, this girl’s probably really scared. For all we know, putting her on the witness stand might just scare her more. I don’t have to tell you what stage fright is, do I?”</p><p>Phoenix gritted his teeth in frustration.</p><p>“I hate to say it,” he sighed, “but at this point, I’m willing to take that gamble.”</p><p>He turned back to the rest of the court.</p><p>“The defence has no objections, Your Honour.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She was already a girl of slight stature, but down there at the witness stand, she looked even smaller. Her eyes were bulging with fear and her hand was tight on her upper arm.</p><p>“Witness,” Flynch said regardless, “please state your name and profession – if you have one – to the court!”</p><p>The girl didn’t reply.</p><p>Her eyes flew from one side of the room to the other, passing over that judge and the ground and everything in-between as she struggled to focus. Her breathing was heavy and desperate.</p><p>“Witness?” Phoenix asked on the off chance she could understand him. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“There’s nothing to be scared of, pet,” the judge said gently. “Just tell us all who you are so we can get started.”</p><p>The girl’s eyes widened even further.</p><p>Her breath caught in her throat and, before anyone else in the room had a chance to react, she covered her face with her hands and shuddered with terrified sobbing.</p><p>“Oh dear,” Flynch sighed.</p><p>“Yeah,” Phoenix groaned, “that’s pretty much what I was afraid of.”</p><p>He looked over at the gossiping passengers and couldn’t help but feel he hadn’t exactly made new friends thanks to this decision.</p><p>“Should we take a break?” asked the driver. “That’s something we’re allowed to do in court, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It is, Your Honour,” Phoenix replied. “A recess of around thirty minutes should be enough for us to help the defendant calm down.”</p><p>“Okay then,” the judge said with a nod. “Let’s have a recess, shall we? So that this poor dear can calm down. The last thing we want is to scare her even more than she already has been.”</p><p>She slammed on her table with the bottom of the glass and brought the ‘court’ proceedings to a halt.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Turnabout Tinnitus part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ugh,” Phoenix sighed as he rubbed his heavy eyes, “I <em> really </em> wish I wasn’t doing this.”</p><p>“But Daddy, we’re doing great!” Trucy clenched her fists in determination. “We’re like 70% towards getting that girl off the hook! We can <em> totally </em> win this thing!”</p><p>“I’m annoyed at the fact that I’m standing in any kind of court in the first place!” Phoenix wiped the dust from his eyes on his jeans. “I don’t even want to know what kind of trouble I’ll get in if anybody back home finds out I’m practising law without a license!”</p><p>“You don’t need to practise, Dad!” Trucy bounced on her heels as if to emphasise her point, fists still clenched as though ready to fight. “You’re already a total expert! I know, practise makes perfect, but you’re already perfect!”</p><p>Phoenix watched the strength glinting in her big blue eyes. Were he a stronger man, the mere sight of her would have given him the willpower to take on the world. He couldn’t help but smile at the display.</p><p>“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said with a smile, his eyes falling upon the scenery whizzing past, “but I’m glad I did it.”</p><p>Trucy giggled and lowered her hands.</p><p>“I love you too, Daddy!” she replied.</p><p>She jumped onto the seat next to him as a knock sounded on the compartment door, which slid open to welcome the younger of their new gentleman companions.</p><p>“Uh…” He nervously glanced around at the half-empty seating arrangement. “…Mr Wright?”</p><p>“What is it, Luke?” Phoenix cuddled his daughter closer in case they needed to make room.</p><p>“I…” Luke shuffled into the compartment with his coat toggles between his fingers. “…I’m really sorry I struggled to keep my composure while I was testifying.”</p><p>Phoenix responded with the most dismissive wave he could manage.</p><p>“Don’t apologise,” he said. “I understand if you’re afraid of blood-”</p><p>“I’m not afraid!” cried Luke. “There’s nothing scary about blood! It was just…”</p><p>He sat down on the far side of the compartment from the father-daughter duo.</p><p>“…seeing so much of it at once,” he said weakly. “It’s not supposed to be outside your body, is it? And the <em> smell </em>…”</p><p>He stifled a gag.</p><p>“It’s okay!” Trucy piped up. “Daddy’s the same with heights!”</p><p>“Trucy -” Phoenix tried.</p><p>“This one time we went on a rollercoaster together and we were just coming over the first hill-”</p><p>“Trucy, please-”</p><p>“-when Dad freaked out and puked all over the person in front of us’ head!”</p><p>“Please stop…”</p><p>“They were <em> super </em> mad at him when we finally came to the end and stopped!”</p><p>“…objection…” Phoenix did his best to hide his reddened face behind a hand.</p><p>When he glanced between his fingers, he saw Luke’s eyes flickering between them as the poor boy tried to figure out what he was supposed to be thinking.</p><p>He cleared his throat pretty much as awkwardly as he could.</p><p>“Wow, um…” he said. “…Mr Wright, is that true?”</p><p>“You bet it is!” Trucy cried joyfully.</p><p>“I really wish it wasn’t,” said Phoenix, “but the evidence was irrefutable. Not to mention smelly.”</p><p>He finally found it in himself to lower his hand.</p><p>“In any case,” he said, “you don’t have anything to worry about. To be honest, you’re one of the most cooperative witnesses I’ve <em> ever </em> had to cross-examine.”</p><p>“Huh? Really?!” Luke’s eyes widened in shock. “Even though I was constantly fighting back the urge to throw up?”</p><p>“Compared to cross-examining actual goddamn murderers and liars who’re just testifying for fun,” Phoenix told him, “you’re a breath of fresh air.”</p><p>Luke swallowed.</p><p>“Wow,” he said, eyes half-focused in astonishment. “I know I got to watch a couple of trials with you, Mr Wright, but I had no idea a standard trial could be so stressful!”</p><p>“And you’re only a witness this time,” Phoenix sighed, and cast a smile in the boy’s direction. “Fancy joining me behind the defence bench again? That was some pretty impressive objecting back there.”</p><p>“I, um…” Luke cringed and fiddled with his toggles again. “I’d rather not.” He managed an embarrassed smile. “Thank you for the offer, but not this time.”</p><p>“Wait, <em> this </em> time?” Trucy jumped up to her feet and fixed her father with a glare. “Daddy, when did THAT happen? When did Luke help you in a trial?!”</p><p>“It wasn’t just me!” Luke interjected. “The Professor helped as well and he was amazing!”</p><p>Trucy giggled again and slipped back onto her seat.</p><p>“Not as amazing as Dad though, right?” she asked.</p><p>“Um, heh…” Luke adjusted his hat with a bashful smile. “I mean, Professor Layton’s pretty great, but I’ll have to admit it was obvious to me which one of them had more experience in courtroom battles. Your dad was fantastic!”</p><p>“Of course he was!” Trucy bounced on the seat cushions. “My dad’s the best lawyer I know! If I ever get accused of murder, I want my defence attorney to be the one and only Phoenix Wright!”</p><p>“Stop.”</p><p>Trucy’s face fell as she looked back up at her dad.</p><p>“Huh?” Her voice rang with disappointment.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” Luke leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the supposed lawyer’s face.</p><p>“Please stop,” Phoenix said. “I’m flattered, I really am, but if you have to keep talking about this, please go to a different compartment. I don’t think I could handle listening to it anymore.”</p><p>He rubbed his heavy eyes again and tried to enjoy the scenery outside.</p><p>“Oh…”</p><p>He felt Trucy lean her shoulder into his body.</p><p>“…sorry, Dad.”</p><p>Her voice was so disappointed that Phoenix could have flinched from how fast the regret slammed into his mind. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders to let her know there were no hard feelings.</p><p>“Why not?” Luke obviously didn’t understand. “Mr Wright, what’s wrong?”</p><p>Phoenix ignored the question and looked down at Trucy with a smile.</p><p>“It’s okay, Trucy-Goosy,” he said, and he adjusted the handcuffs in his back pocket so that he could sit more comfortably. “If you ever <em> do </em>get accused of murder, I’ll make sure your case gets handled by someone we both know and trust.”</p><p>Trucy leaned into his hug and looked up at him.</p><p>“You mean like Uncle Miles?” she asked hopefully.</p><p>“Uncle Miles is a prosecutor, sweetie,” Phoenix reminded her. “I don’t think I could get another favour from him after the mess  he had to handle last time he tried to play defence. The best you could do with him is asking for 20 rather than life, you know?”</p><p>“I know, I know!” Trucy giggled.</p><p>“Mr Wright, what are you talking about?” Luke frowned. “Did something happen? The way you’re talking makes it sound like you got laid off!”</p><p>Phoenix had to force himself not to wince.</p><p>“…Luke?” Trucy started fiddling with her brooch and struggled to look her new friend in the face. “Do you think you could… um… stop talking about it?”</p><p>“T-Trucy?” Luke stammered in confusion. “Mr Wright, what’s going on? What happened to you?”</p><p>Phoenix scratched his head under his hat.</p><p>The kid had to find out sooner or later, didn’t he?</p><p>“I-”</p><p>The knock on the door couldn’t possibly have come at a better time, and the door in question slid open to reveal a familiar top hat and calm smile.</p><p>“I do hope I’m not interrupting our defence team’s discussion,” said Professor Layton.</p><p>“No, not at all!” It seemed Trucy was just as happy for the disruption as her father.</p><p>“Where have you been, Professor?” asked Luke. “I’m fairly sure we investigated the crime scene pretty thoroughly. There wasn’t anything left to find, was there?”</p><p>The Professor in question adjusted his hat by the brim.</p><p>“While I did consider searching through the luggage and cargo for the murder weapon,” he explained as he stepped into the compartment, “I thought better of it after seeing just how vast an assortment was stocked up in that car. The most logical course of action would be for the culprit, should they be exposed, to explain what had happened to it. In the meantime…”</p><p>His eyes wandered in Phoenix’s direction.</p><p>“…there’s something that our dear lawyer here may wish to use to aid his case.”</p><p>“Is there?” Phoenix sat up straighter. “And what would that be?”</p><p>Rather than replying, Layton stepped to one side and held out his arm, beckoning someone forward.</p><p>The someone in question turned out to be the defendant. She stepped into the compartment still nervously clutching her arm, eyes downcast, and Layton rested his hand on her shoulder to comfort her.</p><p>“Go ahead, my dear,” he said gently. “You’re among friends now.”</p><p>The girl took a deep breath and sighed.</p><p>“…I…”</p><p>Trucy gasped in shock and Phoenix almost leapt to his feet.</p><p>“…I’m sorry for causing you all so much trouble,” said the girl.</p><p>“Oh my gosh!” cried Trucy.</p><p>“You can speak!” Luke actually <em> did </em> stand up.</p><p>“Yes,” the girl said, raising a hand to one ear. “I can hear you now. There’s still a bit of ringing, but it isn’t as loud anymore.”</p><p>“I was able to finally establish communication by writing on a serviette,” Layton explained as he sat down beside Trucy and indicated for the girl to sit across from him. “Through this, I determined that this young lady does, in fact, speak English. As her first language, no less. Like we had suspected, she had been deafened, but I managed to provide some modicum of assistance.”</p><p>“It was so simple,” the girl said dejectedly as she found a seat beside Luke. “I feel so stupid for not trying it sooner! All I did was yawn and the ringing started to die down! I feel awful…” She lowered both hands to her lap. “I’m so sorry for putting you all through this.”</p><p>Phoenix shuffled to show more attention to this poor preteen.</p><p>“It’s fine,” he assured her. “I’m just glad we can finally speak with each other. It means that if you feel up to it, you can tell us what actually happened in that freight car. What do you say?”</p><p>The girl started fiddling with a gold crescent that dangled from her right ear.</p><p>“Um…” Her eyes flickered between the other passengers in the compartment. “…okay, well…”</p><p>“It’s alright, miss.” Luke gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “You don’t have to be afraid of us.” He pointed at his chest with his thumb. “My name’s Luke Triton. You already know the Professor, don’t you?”</p><p>The girl released her earring and nodded.</p><p>“And you’re Phoenix Wright, aren’t you?” she asked the man in question. “And your daughter’s name is Trucy. You’re a real lawyer, right? You passed the bar and everything?”</p><p>Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck and prayed that any nervous sweating wasn’t too obvious.</p><p>“How about you tell us what happened in that freight car?” he asked. “I have a feeling that between the five of us, we might be able to put together a full picture of what went down.”</p><p>She started rubbing her arm again. Perhaps that was just something she did when she was nervous? There was no way it still hurt from when Fenchurch had grabbed her.</p><p>“That, um…” There she went, avoiding eye contact again. “…that’s going to be a bit hard.”</p><p>“Huh?” Trucy shuffled forward on her seat. “Why?”</p><p>“Well, I…” An embarrassed blush crept onto the girl’s cheeks. “…I didn’t actually see anything.”</p><p>Phoenix hoped it wasn’t too obvious how hard his heart had just dropped.</p><p>“I can see how that might make things difficult,” he said to mask his disappointment.</p><p>“Every little helps, young lady,” Layton told the girl. “Just tell Mr Wright everything you told me.”</p><p>The girl looked up at him, perhaps looking for help, and he gave her a nod of encouragement.</p><p>“Okay, well… uh…” She ran a hand through her long orange hair and tried to sit up straight. “I was hiding in that crate the whole time and I heard pretty much everything that was going on in there. I heard the door open and someone came in – I think it was you, Mr Wright – and then I heard someone hit you over the head.”</p><p>She rested an arm across her stomach and started fiddling with her earring again.</p><p>“I think another person might have…” Her eyes wandered around in thought. “…no, I’m <em> sure </em> somebody else was already in there before that. Probably ever since the train set off from King’s Cross.”</p><p>Phoenix stroked his chin in thought. Would it be worth writing any of this down in his journal?</p><p>“What makes you so sure?” he asked.</p><p>The girl’s face fell. To describe her as crestfallen would have been an understatement.</p><p>“You’re not going to believe me,” she mumbled, her voice frightened and barely audible.</p><p>“My best friends are a prosecutor, two spirit mediums and an idiot,” Phoenix told her with a wry smile. “Try me.”</p><p>She blinked in surprise.</p><p>“I… could…” She swallowed hard. “I could hear him. He wasn’t saying anything, but I could hear his breathing and his heartbeat.”</p><p>She and Layton were the only ones in the compartment who weren’t taken aback by her statement.</p><p>“Over the sounds of the train?!” gasped Luke.</p><p>“That’s amazing!” cried Trucy.</p><p>“My ears are…” Again, she fiddled with her earring. “…my hearing is really sensitive. So sensitive that I can tell what people are feeling just by listening to their breathing and heart rate.”</p><p>She held up something Phoenix hadn’t noticed until then; a grey ovoid, roughly the size of a chicken’s egg, that she wore on a chain around her neck.</p><p>“This little device I wear helps me narrow things down to the point that I can read and analyse people’s emotions,” the girl explained, “and sometimes it says what I’m thinking too. I would’ve used it to talk to you guys when I still couldn’t hear, but its battery ran out and I haven’t had a chance to put it in sunlight to recharge.”</p><p>Phoenix leaned in to examine it a little closer. Now that he looked, he could make out the edges of a screen held in place by a lighter, shinier silver frame.</p><p>“Wow,” he muttered. “That’s… that’s really impressive.”</p><p>The girl dropped her pendant device in shock.</p><p>“You actually believe me?” The poor girl sounded <em> so </em>relieved.</p><p>“Honestly,” Phoenix said as he sat back, “with everything I’ve seen and done over the past few years, a girl with super-sensitive hearing is one of the more <em> mundane </em> things I’ve discovered.”</p><p>His remark left the girl staring at him in amazement and he had to force back laughter at the sight.</p><p>“So you heard Mr Wright being attacked by a person lingering inside the freight car,” said Layton. “What happened next, my dear?”</p><p>She swallowed hard. It seemed they were entering the more troubling portion of her story.</p><p>“I heard handcuffs clicking and Mr Wright being pushed against the wall,” she explained, “and then the door opened and someone left. I wanted to get out to help you, but the tarp was pulled really tight over the crate and I couldn’t squeeze out from under it. Then the door opened again and I heard, um…”</p><p>Her fingers twitched. She was <em> very </em>uncomfortable by now.</p><p>“…I heard two people talking,” she said.</p><p>“What were they talking about?” Trucy asked.</p><p>The poor girl’s eyebrows creased in worry.</p><p>“Um…” she said nervously, “…I think they were talking about Mr Wright.”</p><p>“Were they?” Phoenix tried to cast his mind back to when he had come round in the darkness. “I know I was there and I heard them too, but I felt a bit too woozy to understand what they were saying.”</p><p>“There were two of them,” the girl told him. “Two men, but they weren’t just talking. They were <em> arguing</em>. One of them wanted to let you go and the other wanted to… um…”</p><p>Phoenix almost wished he didn’t know what she was too afraid to say.</p><p>“Kill me?” he finished for her.</p><p>Trucy gasped in horror beside him.</p><p>“The JERKS!” she cried.</p><p>“One of them was talking about…” The defendant’s frown deepened. “…I don’t quite remember. Something about an operation being called off, it being too risky to keep going…”</p><p>She tapped at her earring and the little crescent glittered faintly in the morning sunlight.</p><p>“I think he was trying to persuade the other guy to quit, but I…” She gulped. “…I don’t remember what it was he wanted them to give up on because then…”</p><p>She returned her hands to her lap, her head lowered in resignation.</p><p>“…there was a gunshot.”</p><p>Phoenix nodded. That explained a lot.</p><p>“And that’s when you lost your hearing, wasn’t it?” asked Luke.</p><p>“Hearing sensitive enough to pick up on the heartbeat of a person hiding in the same room,” Layton stated, cradling his chin in thought. “Over the sounds of the train, no less. That gunshot must have been a terrible shock.”</p><p>The girl continued frowning in the direction of the floor.</p><p>“It was,” she confirmed. “My ears were full of ringing after that. I knew I was in trouble when that security guard pulled me out of the crate, but I couldn’t hear anything anyone was saying and…”</p><p>She raised a hand to one ear and gave it a gentle massage.</p><p>“That must’ve been terrifying,” said Phoenix.</p><p>The girl nodded in agreement.</p><p>“The ringing’s dying down now,” she told him. “I think I might be fine by the time we arrive in Aberdeen.”</p><p>“Young lady,” said Layton, “there’s something I can’t help wondering about.”</p><p>“Mm-hm?” The girl looked up at him, her eyes still wide with fear.</p><p>“Is it possible that you could recognise the voice of the murderer if you were to hear it again?”</p><p>She tapped at the crescent earring and it swung back and forth beside her head. Her eyes were turned upwards; she was thinking.</p><p>“…maybe…” she said.</p><p>Before any other questions could be asked, there was a gentle knock at the door and a gangly young man leaned into the compartment.</p><p>“Excuse me?” he said nervously. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re about to reconvene.”</p><p>“Thanks,” said Phoenix, and he turned back to the girl as the door slid closed. “Okay, everything you told us; do you think you can explain it to the court?”</p><p>The girl gasped in shock and her grip tightened on her arm again.</p><p>“U-um…” she choked.</p><p>“We’ll be right there with you, young lady,” Layton told her. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of. If you just tell everybody what happened and don’t try to hide any important details, you’ll be absolutely fine.”</p><p>“The Professor’s right!” Luke added enthusiastically. “Don’t worry, okay? The witness stand isn’t anywhere near as scary as it looks!”</p><p>The girl lowered her hackles but didn’t look any less uncomfortable at the prospect of returning to that makeshift courtroom.</p><p>“…uh…” she managed.</p><p>“Just think of it this way!” Trucy slipped off the seat again and sprang to her feet. “It’s not a real courtroom, it’s just a train carriage!”</p><p>“A train carriage we should really get back to,” Phoenix said as he too stood up, “if we don’t want to be held in contempt of… uh… dining car.”</p><p>He slid the door open.</p><p>“Come on, co-counsel,” he said, beckoning as he stepped out of the compartment.</p><p>“Coming, Daddy!” Trucy responded, and she happily bounced after her father.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The gossip among the passengers faded into silence as Driver Carrie slammed the base of her “gavel” on the table she sat at.</p><p>“Okay,” she said, “shall we keep going? We’ve all had a chance to calm down now, haven’t we?”</p><p>“Indeed, Your Honour,” Flynch slimed, “and it would appear our little defendant is finally ready to speak!”</p><p>“Oh, good!” The judge turned to the witness stand with a friendly smile. “So you’re feeling better now, are you, pet?”</p><p>The girl’s electric blue eyes flickered in the direction of the defence; Phoenix responded with a nod of encouragement and Trucy gave her best thumbs-up.</p><p>The defendant tried to swallow her fear.</p><p>“…yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m feeling a little better now. I’m sorry I couldn’t speak to you earlier. I was… um…”</p><p>She clutched her lower arm, seemingly shrinking right there at the stand.</p><p>“Before you begin your testimony,” said Flynch, “please state your name and profession to the court.”</p><p>She took a deep breath and straightened up, staring ahead with all the determination she could muster.</p><p>“My name is Athena Cykes,” she stated. “Analytical psychologist.”</p><p>The gallery behind her muttered in astonishment. Phoenix and Trucy shared a look as well; nobody in the carriage had expected <em> that </em> to be her response.</p><p>“Analytical <em> what?</em>” Flynch whined in disbelief. “You’re barely more than a child! How could a mere slip of a girl like you call yourself a psychologist?”</p><p>“Hey, I’m twelve years old, buddy!” Athena retorted, clenching her fists as if ready to throw a punch. “I’m not some little kid who’s got no clue what she’s talking about! I’ll have you know I’m heading to Aberdeen to start classes at the university!”</p><p>“Wow, that’s amazing!” Trucy gasped. “You must be a real prodigy!”</p><p>“Uh, heh…” Athena pulled her fingers through her hair, face glowing almost as bright as her ponytail. “I wouldn’t go <em> that </em> far…”</p><p>“Twelve years old and enrolled in university already?” Phoenix reminded her. “Sounds like a prodigy to me.”</p><p>Thank goodness. Seemed she wasn’t about to start crying again any time soon.</p><p>“Well, if this <em> prodigy </em> could testify to the court about her trespassing,” Flynch whinged, “I do believe we can get this bizarre facsimile of a trial over and done with! I’d like to finish my crosswords before the coming of the next ice age, thank you very much!”</p><p>“Okay, okay,” Athena sighed.</p><p>Phoenix flipped his journal open and prepared his pencil for note-taking.</p><p>The girl on the stand – Athena, he reminded himself – took a deep breath and steeled herself.</p><p>“I had no intention of stowing away when I arrived at the station this morning,” she explained to the court, “but I forgot my wallet and I didn’t realise until I was already on the platform. I didn’t have any money for a ticket and the train was about to leave, so I hid in a crate that I saw waiting to be loaded on board. It was pretty cramped in there. I had to shove all those bags of flour aside to make room.”</p><p>The scrawling of Phoenix’s pencil was the only sound in the room once she had finished talking. The judge gave her a thoughtful nod.</p><p>“I understand,” she said. “You poor thing. I can’t imagine how scary it must have been. Hiding like that and getting squished in the process!”</p><p>“Hey, Dad?”</p><p>Trucy tugged on her father’s sleeve.</p><p>“Do you think maybe that stuff in the crate could be important?” she asked.</p><p>Phoenix hummed in thought, tapping his pencil on the page.</p><p>“It’s possible,” he said. “Good call, Truce. Your Honour?”</p><p>“Yes, Mr Wright?”</p><p>“I recommend the contents of the crate Ms Cykes was hiding in be added to the court record.”</p><p>“Very well,” said the driver, “um…”</p><p>It took a moment for Phoenix to remember she wasn’t used to this.</p><p>“The court accepts it as evidence?” he prompted.</p><p>“Yes!” The judge smiled in relief. “Thank you, Mr Wright. The court accepts the crate’s contents as evidence. As soon as that’s done, the defence may proceed with its cross-examination.”</p><p>Phoenix flipped back to the page he’d listed their evidence on and wrote down everything he needed:</p><p> </p><p><em> Crate’s contents </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Bags of white powder. The defendant assumes it to be flour. True nature unknown </em></p><p> </p><p>As soon as that was done, he returned to the page he had used for notes about the latest testimony and got ready to write again.</p><p>“So you didn’t notice you’d left your wallet behind until you were about to catch the train?” he asked.</p><p>“No, I didn’t,” Athena replied, unable to make eye contact with her defence. “I know I should probably have called my faculty advisor and explained that I wouldn’t be able to make it in time, but I panicked.”</p><p>She looked up at Phoenix with her eyes filled with pleading.</p><p>“I wasn’t thinking straight!” she cried. “All I could think was that I HAD to get to Aberdeen somehow!”</p><p>“Poor Athena,” Trucy said quietly. “She must’ve been so scared.”</p><p>“Yeah, no kidding,” Phoenix whispered back. “No wallet doesn’t just mean no money; it means no ID. Small wonder she couldn’t let us know what her name was.”</p><p>He only realised once he had finished speaking that trying to hide their conversation was pointless. Athena was watching him and had clearly heard every word he said.</p><p>“I feel so stupid for not trying to get my wallet back before I got on board,” she said, eyes downcast. “Do you think I can call the hotel I stayed at and ask them to post it to me?”</p><p>“I’m sure they’d be happy to, Ms Cykes,” Phoenix assured her.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how important those details would turn out to be, but he made a note of them all the same.</p><p>“You hid inside a crate, huh?” he asked, and mentally kicked himself for asking a question he already knew the answer to.</p><p>Athena shrank in on herself again.</p><p>“Yes,” she squeaked.</p><p>“I can think of at least one way you could’ve made it easier on yourself,” Phoenix told her.</p><p>“Really?” She perked up again. “What’s that?”</p><p>Phoenix glanced at the driver and hoped this wouldn’t get him in trouble.</p><p>“You could’ve just sat in the passenger cars, couldn’t you?” he suggested. “And coincidentally gone to the bathroom if a conductor came through to check your ticket?”</p><p>Athena’s jaw dropped.</p><p>“Aww, I’m so STUPID!” She slapped a hand to her forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?!”</p><p>“OBJECTION!” Flynch screamed. “The defence will kindly refrain from educating the defendant on how to commit fare evasion!”</p><p>“Objection sustained,” the judge agreed, and the look she gave Phoenix was noticeably annoyed. “Watch yourself, Mr Wright. I’ve got my eye on you.”</p><p>Phoenix felt like punching himself.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess that was pretty stupid,” he decided, trying not to wither under the disparaging glares almost everybody in the carriage had fixed him with.</p><p>Again, maybe this would end up being useless, but like the Professor had said, every little helped. He made a note of it all the same.</p><p>“So Athena, about the crate you decided to hide in,” he said. “Bags of flour?”</p><p>Athena nodded.</p><p>“I managed to get a quick look at them before the carriage doors were shut,” she explained. “They’re plastic bags filled with flour.”</p><p>She cast her eyes to the ceiling and started fiddling with her earring again.</p><p>“At least, I think it was flour,” she pondered. “It could’ve been powdered sugar. I didn’t have much time to look before it all went dark, but it’s definitely some kind of white powder.”</p><p>Phoenix had been in the middle of writing this down when a nasty realisation slapped him in the back of the head and he froze.</p><p>“Uh-oh,” he muttered.</p><p>“What’s wrong, Daddy?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“I have a bad feeling about this…”</p><p>He swallowed his discomfort and turned to the judge.</p><p>“Your Honour?”</p><p>“Yes, Mr Wright?”</p><p>“I recommend a search of the crate Ms Cykes was hiding inside,” said Phoenix, and hoped he wouldn’t get himself in trouble for suggesting this. “Whatever that white powder is, I have an inkling it isn’t an FDA-approved foodstuff.”</p><p>The driver frowned. It hadn’t taken her long to catch on to what he had been insinuating.</p><p>“You may be right,” she said. “In the meantime, would you like to continue your cross-exami-”</p><p>“HOLD IT!”</p><p>Athena yelped in shock as she was shoved aside and members of the gallery caught her before she hit the floor.</p><p>“What the-” It took Phoenix a moment to register who had taken her place. “Officer Fenchurch?!”</p><p>“Don’t you think this bloody <em> farce </em>has gone on for long enough?” the officer demanded. “My colleague’s been stuffed in the freezer and the killer’s standing right in front of you!”</p><p>He pointed his most accusing finger at Athena.</p><p>“Just declare this lying bint guilty and be done with it!” he yelled.</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>Trucy accompanied her shout with a stamp on their table.</p><p>“Athena hasn’t said or done anything to hint that she’s a killer!” she pointed out.</p><p>“Trespassing and fare evasion can’t be equated with murder,” Phoenix agreed. “You’re a law enforcement officer, Mr Fenchurch. Do we really have to remind you of that?”</p><p>“She was the only one in the freight car who wasn’t handcuffed or knocked out!” Fenchurch argued back. “Who the hell else COULD it be?!”</p><p>“…it was you…”</p><p>All eyes turned to the defendant.</p><p>“Ms Cykes?” said Phoenix.</p><p>Athena looked at him, having returned to her feet, with terror written all over her face.</p><p>“It was him!” She thrust her finger in Fenchurch’s direction. “Mr Wright, I recognise this man’s voice! This guy is the man I heard talking with the victim before he died!”</p><p>Trucy gasped in shock, Flynch in horror, as the gallery began to gossip again.</p><p>“Knew it couldn’t have been her!”</p><p>“How could such a small girl even <em> use </em> a gun?”</p><p>“But one of the security staff? How could he?!”</p><p>“Oh god! How many other rail cops do you think could be in on it?!”</p><p>“Order!” The driver slammed her glass on her table. “Order in the court!”</p><p>“OBJECTION!” Flynch squealed. “Would the defendant please refrain from pulling accusations out of thin air?!”</p><p>“I’m not pulling anything out of anything!” Athena replied. “I remember this guy’s voice, I swear!”</p><p>“I said ORDER!” The judge slammed her glass down even harder. “Every single one of you needs to quieten down this instant!”</p><p>As the chatter finally softened, she lowered her gaze to where the defendant stood.</p><p>“Ms Cykes…” She hesitated. “Can I call you Athena, pet?” </p><p>Athena swallowed again.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” she said.</p><p>“Athena,” the judge said solemnly, “are you sure – are you <em> completely </em> sure – that Officer Fenchurch is the man whose voice you heard while you were hiding in that crate?”</p><p>The defendant tried to straighten herself up.</p><p>“Yes I am,” she replied. “My hearing is excellent, Your Honour. I don’t think I’ve <em> ever </em> forgotten a voice.”</p><p>Phoenix tapped Trucy’s leg off their bench.</p><p>“Then how about testifying about what you heard him saying?” he asked.</p><p>“Ha!” was Fenchurch’s response. “You seriously think you have the authority for that?”</p><p>“Right now?” asked Phoenix. “Yeah, I think I do.”</p><p>“He does, Officer Fenchurch,” said their judge. “He’s the defence leader and right now, you’re just another watcher in the gallery. Either you settle down or I’ll have some choice things to say at your next salary negotiations.”</p><p>Fenchurch visibly winced at the threat and slinked away from the witness stand.</p><p>“Wow, Daddy!” Trucy whispered to her father. “Did you hear that?”</p><p>“I guess salary docking for disobedient cops is a pretty popular punishment,” Phoenix replied under his breath.</p><p>“Defendant!” cried Flynch as Athena retook her place at the stand. “Do recognise that what you’re saying is an extremely serious accusation!”</p><p>“It is, isn’t it?” Phoenix had to fight the urge to smirk. “One that I’m sure could be cleared up with a bit more testimony. What do you think, Ms Cykes?”</p><p>When he did smile, he made sure it was gentle and directed at the redhead on the stand.</p><p>“…u-um…” She rubbed her lower arm, eyes downcast. “…okay.”</p><p>By her side, right on the edge of the gallery, Fenchurch stood with his arms crossed and glared at her from under his brow.</p><p>“Officer Fenchurch,” said the judge who seemed to have noticed, “there WILL be consequences if you try to interfere again.”</p><p>She turned to Athena with a far softer expression.</p><p>“Go ahead, Athena,” she said. “Tell us what you know.”</p><p>Athena swallowed hard and tried to avoid looking at the man almost twice her size who loomed over her. Phoenix had to fight back the urge to walk over and punch him away and readied his pencil instead.</p><p>“I overheard Officer Fenchurch talking with Officer Liverpool while I was hiding,” she explained, and her eyes flew over to the defence bench for the briefest of moments. “Thinking back, I’m pretty sure they were discussing Mr Wright, because I heard one of them mention his handcuffs.”</p><p>She fiddled with her earring again.</p><p>“My memory gets a little fuzzy here,” she continued, “but I remember hearing one of them get rather frantic, and then there was a gunshot. After that, all I could hear was ringing.”</p><p>Just like what she’d said back in the passenger compartment, Phoenix considered as he finished writing. Once again, he thought, it was remarkable how his handwriting was more legible when it was small.</p><p>“So it would appear that these gentlemen were involved in some rather suspicious behaviour,” said the judge. “Mr Wright, if I’m correct about what you suspect the aforementioned white powder to be-”</p><p>“You keep your mouth shut!” Fenchurch stepped forward and pointed right at the driver’s face. “You don’t have any idea what we were-”</p><p>“OFFICER FENCHURCH.”</p><p>He fell silent.</p><p>“One more outburst like that and I will have you removed from this court.”</p><p>She sounded almost like a stern mother, Phoenix thought with amusement, and he waited until Fenchurch had stepped back before getting his journal ready again.</p><p>This time, rather than staying behind the bench, he took a few steps closer to the witness stand. Not that he wanted to be ready in case Fenchurch tried anything, but that jerk wasn’t the only one who knew how to put on a show of power.</p><p>“How clearly could you hear the two men?” he asked.</p><p>Athena struggled to avoid looking at the security officer beside her.</p><p>“I know I was in a crate,” she said, “but I could hear them like they were right next to me. That’s how strong my ears are. I could hear you too, Mr Wright.”</p><p>Phoenix paused in his writing.</p><p>“You could, could you?” he asked, recalling that he had been unconscious during that time.</p><p>“I was so relieved when I heard you breathing!” Athena explained. “When I heard you getting hit, I thought for sure they’d killed you!”</p><p>Hmm, maybe this wasn’t all that important, but it was distracting her from the bastard beside her. That was what mattered.</p><p>“And you ended up witnessing a murder anyway,” Phoenix remarked.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Athena, and she tried her best to smile. “I guess there wasn’t much point getting worried about you, was there?”</p><p>“Daddy’s got a <em> really </em> solid head!” Trucy declared to the court. “I don’t know <em> what </em> it’ll take to knock him dead!”</p><p>“Sweetie, I don’t think we should be tempting fate when there might genuinely be a murderer on board,” Phoenix warned his daughter before turning back to his client. “Could you please elaborate on what you mentioned? About one of them talking about handcuffs?”</p><p>“I, um…” God, could that guy just get lost already?! “I think he said something like ‘I hope nobody else tries to cause trouble before we arrive, because I had to use my handcuffs to keep this guy out of the way’.”</p><p>Phoenix mulled this latest statement over, tapping his journal with the eraser end of his pencil.</p><p>“So my abduction <em> was </em>hasty, was it?” he thought aloud. “I’d begun to suspect that from the fact that my hat was the blindfold.”</p><p>“Wow, Dad!” Trucy cheered. “You really <em> are </em> great at getting in people’s way!”</p><p>“…I’m not too sure how I feel about that,” Phoenix said mostly to himself before turning his attention back to Athena. “Do you have any idea why they might have abducted me?”</p><p>Athena took a small step closer to the defence bench.</p><p>“It seemed like they mostly just wanted to keep you out of their way,” she explained. “I didn’t hear any murderous intent… at least, not until…”</p><p>She continued to shrink away from Fenchurch as Phoenix noted this in his journal.</p><p>If that guy didn’t take a step back soon, the poor kid would’ve been pushed off the stand.</p><p>“Do you remember which of the men you heard getting frantic?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>“I, uh…” Athena threw another glance at Fenchurch. “…I think I do.”</p><p>“There were two people talking in the freight car at the time,” Phoenix pointed out. “Officers Liverpool and Fenchurch. Of the two, which do you believe it’s more likely to be?”</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>Phoenix almost tossed his journal down in annoyance.</p><p>“The witness testimony is no place for belief or conjecture!” cried Flynch. “Please keep only to cold hard facts, thank you very much!”</p><p>While giving the prosecution the most disparaging look he could, Phoenix raised his pencil and journal back up.</p><p>“Okay then,” he said, and softened his expression as he turned back to the defendant. “Ms Cykes, think carefully now. Which of the pair did you hear getting frantic?”</p><p>Athena tried to straighten herself up.</p><p>“Uh…” she said nervously. “…I think it was-”</p><p>“Can we just cut the crap already?!” Fenchurch shoved Athena aside again and this time she slammed to the floor. “This is ridiculous! Why the hell are we all just standing here listening to some stowaway bint spout the stupidest lies she can just to make you all think she’s-”</p><p>“OBJECTION!” Trucy stamped on the table as hard as she could. “Mr Fenchurch, you’ve been warned! BAILIFF!”</p><p>“Trucy, your spirit is fantastic,” Phoenix calmly told her, “but we’re on a train, so I don’t think we’ll be able to find a bailiff.”</p><p>“Nevertheless, the defence has a point,” said the judge, her voice simmering with fury. “Officer Fenchurch!”</p><p>“Wait, hang on.”</p><p>Phoenix calmly rested his pencil behind his ear as Athena was helped to her feet by members of their audience.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” The driver turned to him with confusion.</p><p>“Officer Fenchurch.” Phoenix leaned against the bench and crossed his arms in the most casual way he could. “You seem very eager to state your case, don’t you? Why not do so in a more official capacity?”</p><p>Fenchurch’s glare was more furious than ever, or maybe he was just baffled that somebody didn’t find him intimidating.</p><p>“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” he demanded.</p><p>Phoenix gave him a friendly little smile.</p><p>“Take the stand, officer,” he suggested. “Testify. Tell us <em> your </em> side of the story.”</p><p>Fenchurch blinked at him, more confused than ever.</p><p>“Eh?” he grunted.</p><p>“I mean, if Ms Cykes really is as much of a liar as you claim she is,” Phoenix pointed out, “then it’s the most logical course of action, don’t you think?”</p><p>He walked back around his bench to stand next to Trucy, who had drawn herself up to the fullest of her height and was watching Fenchurch with her smuggest little smirk.</p><p>“Of course,” Phoenix continued, “if what she says is the truth, then it might just be easier for you to turn yourself in to us right now, don’t you think?”</p><p>For a moment he wondered if he could get away with sharing a high-five with his daughter.</p><p>“Ha!” Fenchurch exclaimed. “Fat chance! Fine then. Let me speak. Not like you’ve got any rope to hang me with!”</p><p>“But you do,” Trucy muttered. “Don’t you, Dad?”</p><p>“Yeah, I think the picture’s pretty clear by now,” Phoenix replied. “He wants rope to hang with? Let’s set up the gallows for him, shall we?”</p><p><em> Now </em> they shared a high-five.</p><p>Fenchurch watched that in bemusement, but tutted and rolled his eyes rather than enquiring any further.</p><p>“Very well then, witness,” said the by-now-very-exasperated Flynch. “If you could state your name and profession for the court?”</p><p>The security officer stared straight ahead with his arms crossed.</p><p>“Arnold Fenchurch,” he replied firmly. “Security officer for Virgin Rail.”</p><p>The driver fixed him with a glare somehow even fiercer than his.</p><p>“Mr Fenchurch,” she said softly, “your conduct during the trial thus far has been nothing less than <em> deplorable</em>. You have repeatedly interrupted witness testimony and your behaviour towards this court as a whole has been positively barbaric. I may be new to this ‘judge’ endeavour, but even I know what contempt of court is and when a person should be held accountable for it. Do you understand?”</p><p>Fenchurch’s anger only barely wavered.</p><p>“I do, ma’am,” he replied.</p><p>“With that in mind,” the driver added, “I expect you to treat this opportunity with the respect it needs. If you use your time on the witness stand as an excuse to mouth off and project your anger onto members of the court, I <em> will </em> have you held in contempt. Have I made myself clear? Now tell us about what you found when you first entered that carriage.”</p><p>At long last, the officer uncrossed his arms.</p><p>“You’ve made yourself clear,” he said, “Your Honour.”</p><p>“Wow, Trucy,” Phoenix muttered to his daughter, “he’s like you after a tantrum.”</p><p>“Hmm, no,” said Trucy. “More like Uncle Larry after he’s gotten dumped, but in the few seconds before he starts crying.”</p><p>Phoenix tried to keep a straight face as he got ready to write.</p><p>Fenchurch looked over at him with a look comparable to a snarl, but Phoenix just blinked. With people like this, it was really the best idea to show no reaction at all.</p><p>“Things were kind of a mess when I got to the freight car,” the officer told the court. “That Wright bloke was arguing with Mr Top Hat and those two kids were standing over Liverpool’s corpse, just watching like their dads were having a row. I thought I saw something moving in one of the crates, so I decided to check, and that’s when I found the defendant trying to hide. It was obvious how suspicious her behaviour was, so I apprehended her on the spot.”</p><p>If he scowled any harder, he was going to turn his own face inside out.</p><p>Trucy tapped on her mouth, humming in thought.</p><p>“Got any clues, Daddy?” she asked as loud as she dared.</p><p>Phoenix suppressed the grimace he dearly wanted to pull.</p><p>“This guy’s good,” he replied. “I was hoping there’d be something I could worm my way into, but that testimony was pretty tight.”</p><p>“Then grab a knife and cut it loose!” Trucy ordered. “I’ve got plenty of throwing knives you could use!”</p><p>“Uh…” Phoenix hoped she wouldn’t notice his concern. “…again, thanks for the offer.”</p><p>“Thank you, Officer Fenchurch,” said their judge. “Okay, Mr Wright. Whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>Phoenix responded with a nod. He leaned forward and rested one hand on their bench, silently screaming in this bully’s face that they didn’t care how scary he thought he was.</p><p>“As a security guard,” he said, “wasn’t it your duty to watch over the carriage and make sure nobody tried to get in?”</p><p>“Oi, I have to take a break <em> sometime</em>, Barrister!” Fenchurch snapped. “I hadn’t eaten all morning and I was bloody hungry!”</p><p>Phoenix cocked his head in curiosity.</p><p>“You didn’t think to ask a colleague to take your place?” he asked.</p><p>“I was only going to get myself a bottle of water and a jam sandwich, Barrister. I wasn’t even planning on going to the loo.”</p><p>“Nevertheless, it seems a little reckless to leave the door unattended long enough for a ten-year-old girl, even one as experienced and talented as my daughter, to pick the lock and get inside.”</p><p>Fenchurch ripped his flashlight from his belt and brandished it in Phoenix’s direction.</p><p>“Well, how about YOU try doing my job, you piece of shi-”</p><p>“Officer Fenchurch!” the judge interjected. “There are <em> children </em> present! I would request that you watch your language!”</p><p>Fenchurch glared at her and tightened his grip on his flashlight while Phoenix made a note of his response in his journal.</p><p>“So you knew Officer Liverpool had been killed as soon as you discovered the scene?” he asked.</p><p>“What’s it to you, Barrister?” Fenchurch retorted. “Liverpool and I were on the same shift. Of <em> course </em>I figured it was him.”</p><p>Phoenix pressed the end of his pencil to his lip in mock thoughtfulness.</p><p>“It’s just that I seem to recall there being something rather significant that would make it difficult to identify the victim just by sight,” he said, ignoring that this man larger than him was still gripping that flashlight as hard as he could.</p><p>“Oh, do you, now?” said man responded. “And just what would that be?”</p><p>With a roll of his eyes, Phoenix flipped back to his evidence list. If only he had some photos to present to better illustrate his points…</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “The tarpaulin. It’s in <em> very </em> good condition, Officer Fenchurch. Even if it wasn’t – even if it had a hole or two in it – it wouldn’t be enough for you to see through, would it?”</p><p>“H-huh?!” Fenchurch raised his flashlight as if preparing to bludgeon the defence to death.</p><p>“That powerful flashlight of yours would’ve cast shadows, don’t you think?” Phoenix suggested. “You’d have to shine it right into the holes even to see Officer Liverpool’s day-glow vest! So how could you tell who he was under there without seeing?”</p><p>“He asked us who it was, didn’t he?” Trucy recalled. “I guess he must’ve been lying, huh?”</p><p>The gallery gossiped again, with more than one mother chastising her child for looking at the officer on the stand.</p><p>“Order!” The judge slammed her glass on the table as hard as she could. “Order in the court!”</p><p>“D-don’t forget he wasn’t totally covered by the tarp!” cried Fenchurch with another squeeze of his flashlight. “His hand was sticking out! I could tell it was one of my colleagues by seeing his sleeve an-and I figured it was Liverpool because he was the only one who’d been in the area!”</p><p>“OBJECTION!” screamed Flynch. “These are all reasonable assertions, Mr Wright! If you truly wish to indict this witness, you’re going to have to come up with something a little more substantial than that!”</p><p>Phoenix simply leaned against his bench again.</p><p>“I notice neither you nor the witness are able to refute my claim though, Prosecutor Flynch,” he pointed out. “Can you, Officer? Can you tell me how you knew, at a glance, just which one of your co-workers it was under that tarp?”</p><p>If Fenchurch gritted his teeth any harder, he was going to grind them into sand.</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>Phoenix straightened up and rested a hand in his pocket as he looked back up at Flynch.</p><p>“Is this really a relevant concern right now, Mr Wright?” asked the prosecutor. “All that matters right now is that our dear officer recognised that one of his colleagues had been killed. Do you have anything further to add or are you going to return to the cross-examination you’re supposed to be conducting?”</p><p>Still relaxed with one hand pocketed, Phoenix leaned down to his co-counsel.</p><p>“What do you think, Trucy?” he asked.</p><p>“I think your trick is going great so far, Dad,” she whispered to him, “but the best illusions are the ones that have a build-up. If you really want to wow the crowd, make them wait and then blow their socks off!”</p><p>Naturally her analogy brought a smile to her father’s face.</p><p>“You’re the seasoned performer, here,” he replied, “so I trust your opinion.”</p><p>He straightened again, keeping up that smile as he turned back to Fenchurch.</p><p>“Very well, Officer,” he said. “Tell us, just how powerful is that flashlight of yours?”</p><p>The look Fenchurch gave him couldn’t be more condescending if he’d tried.</p><p>“You mean my torch?” he asked. “It’s standard issue, Barrister, but it gets the job done. It can light up the whole room, so long as that room’s something like this train.”</p><p>Phoenix tapped his notebook again. Was there a contradiction here?</p><p>“I seem to recall you shining it in our faces while you were talking to us,” he said, “and that crate the defendant hid in is made of solid wood. Like with the tarp, you wouldn’t be able to see through any holes unless you got close enough to peer in, would you?”</p><p>“What’re you driving at, Jeremy Clarkson?” Fenchurch demanded. “Hadn’t you better try out those brakes?”</p><p>A quick glance with Trucy confirmed that she was just as confused as her father.</p><p>“I have no idea who that is,” Phoenix said, “but I’d like to know how you could see inside the crate if you didn’t have that flashlight of yours pointed its way.”</p><p>“Don’t play dumb, Barrister!” Fenchurch snapped. “You were there too! You saw as well as I did that Mr Top Hat had his own little torch with him!”</p><p>“Oh!” Trucy gasped. “Yeah, he did! You remember, don’t you, Daddy? That cute little lantern he had in his pocket!”</p><p>Phoenix tried to think. Small, yellowish-light, most likely brass, looked like it’d been snatched out of the 40s…</p><p>“Yeah, I remember now,” he said. “That small lantern of his…”</p><p>He scratched his head with his pencil.</p><p>“Officer Fenchurch!”</p><p>“What, you egg?”</p><p>“How would you phrase that statement if you were to add it to your testimony?”</p><p>Was Fenchurch frowning in confusion or annoyance? It was getting rather difficult to tell.</p><p>“I could see something moving in the crate by the light of Mr Top Hat’s lantern,” he stated.</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t help but smile.</p><p>The gallows had been set up. Time to throw the lever.</p><p>“The only thing more adorable than that little lantern is the idea you think I’d actually buy your excuse.”</p><p>Fenchurch squeezed on his flashlight again. Was the metal starting to crack?</p><p>“Well, don’t leave us in suspense, Barrister,” he growled through gritted teeth. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“I think it might be easier to just show you,” said Phoenix, and he looked into the gallery for any sign of a top hat. “Professor, are you still in here?”</p><p>“Indeed I am, Mr Wright,” called a voice from somewhere in the crowd. “One moment; could you please tell me the name of an English-made cheese that sounds like a day of the week?”</p><p>“Uh, hmm…” Phoenix wracked his brain, raking through all the cheesy knowledge he had. “Wensleydale? That sounds a bit like Wednesday.”</p><p>“Ah, that’s the one, thank you,” the gentleman responded. “How may I be of assistance?”</p><p>“Do you still have that little lantern with you?” Phoenix asked. “I’d like to borrow it for a demonstration.”</p><p>“But of course, Mr Wright.” The crowd parted to allow Layton through, the lantern clutched in his outstretched hand and a book of crosswords visible in the other. “Do be sure to treat it carefully.”</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Phoenix assured him, “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”</p><p>He took the lantern from Layton’s gloved fingers and turned it over in his hands until he found its switch.</p><p>“Your Honour,” he said, “how wide would you say this carriage is?”</p><p>“Um…” The judge stroked her chin and looked from one side of the dining car to the other. “I can’t be sure, but I’d say it’s around ten feet wide, give or take an inch.”</p><p>“Roughly three metres, then.” Phoenix switched the lantern on. “With that in mind, I’d like the court to observe the relative brightness of this lantern’s beam.”</p><p>He pointed the lantern at the floor. As expected, it produced a broad circle of yellowish-white light, and as Phoenix changed the direction of the beam, that circle moved up the deep red carpet and grew wider and fainter as it went. By the time it reached Driver Carrie’s table, it was hardly even visible.</p><p>“Why, that…” Flynch stared in disbelief. “…that barely shines very far at all!”</p><p>Phoenix nodded and held the lantern out for Layton to take back.</p><p>“Pre-existing lighting conditions notwithstanding,” he said calmly, “I’d say that this lantern’s light can reach around three metres before it becomes too dull to be useful.”</p><p>He walked slowly around the so-called bench and leaned against its front, hands in his pockets.</p><p>“If we keep the layout of the crime scene in mind,” he continued, “I estimate that the Professor was standing roughly four metres away from the crate that Ms Cykes was hiding inside. Even if he had shone his light in that direction, there’s no way that you, Officer Fenchurch, would have been able to see anything.”</p><p>“OBJECTION!” cried Flynch. “Don’t forget that it’s much darker in the freight car than it is in this carriage! By far, that lantern would have a great deal more penetrative power!”</p><p>Phoenix sighed and rolled his eyes.</p><p>“That doesn’t change its drop-off rate,” he pointed out. “Even back there, the light was too dull to make out details more than three metres away.”</p><p>He straightened up, leaning away from the bench, and pointed his most accusing finger at the man on the stand.</p><p>“It’s not possible that Officer Fenchurch noticed Ms Cykes,” he stated.</p><p>“You BASTARD!” Fenchurch shouted.</p><p>Once again, the gallery erupted into gossip.</p><p>“I can’t believe this! Has he really been lying this whole time?”</p><p>“This whole affair has just been cruel. That poor young girl!”</p><p>“But why did he go and look in the crate if he didn’t know someone was in there?”</p><p>“Can we even believe that’s what happened? That guy doesn’t even look like a lawyer at all!”</p><p>“Don’t lawyers usually wear suits when they’re working? This guy looks like he’s homeless!”</p><p>“I don’t know. I don’t trust this guy. Couldn’t he have at least shaved before starting this thing?”</p><p>The lawyer in question tried to shut their words out. With everything that had happened – everything he had stated and Fenchurch had all but admitted to – there was no way he could be wrong about this.</p><p>“Order!” called the judge, and she slammed her glass on the table hard enough to dent the wood. “Order, everyone! <em> Order!</em>”</p><p>“Officer Fenchurch, do you really need us to continue?” Phoenix lowered his pointing finger. “Surely you understand how suspicious all of this is making you look.”</p><p>“…no.”</p><p>Huh?</p><p>Phoenix blinked in confusion. Fenchurch, meanwhile, crossed his arms and glared at him from under his brow.</p><p>“Sorry, Barrister, but no,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to let you pin this on me. I’m a railway cop. An officer of the law. I can’t say I’m all that interested in breaking it, especially not in the way you’re insinuating.”</p><p>He holstered the flashlight he had been squeezing.</p><p>“I looked inside that crate because its cover had been removed,” he stated, “and I wanted to make sure the contents were safe. Is that enough for you?”</p><p>He had been annoyed before this, but Phoenix’s frown deepened as he mulled this over.</p><p>He may be a jerk, but this man had a point. It was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make and a perfectly reasonable course of action to take. The fact that he hadn’t been reasonable at all didn’t really change that fact.</p><p>“You…” Phoenix muttered. “…you can’t be serious.”</p><p>“I am, Barrister,” Fenchurch replied. “Not even that stowaway bint can say for sure if I was the one who pulled that trigger, because maybe she heard plenty, but she didn’t see any damn thing, did she? Too busy hiding herself away in a big box of flour bags! Heck, it was probably pretty comfy in there!”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“And don’t you dare suggest I used my sidearm. This is Britain. We don’t carry guns here, nor do we pass them out to every Tom, Dick and Harry who asks nicely.”</p><p>Well, there went one of the other arguments Phoenix had been considering. He sighed, slumping against his bench, and rubbed his heavy eyes with his fingers.</p><p>“Why did I expect any different?” he groaned.</p><p>“Your Honour,” said Fenchurch. “I understand that my reputation’s pretty damn besmirched by now, but unless this fraud has any concrete proof that I’m the murderer he’s trying to make me out to be, I think it’s time I got back to work.”</p><p>The driver’s sigh more-or-less summed up Phoenix’s mood at that moment.</p><p>“Prosecutor Flynch?” She turned to the prosecution. “Do you have anything to add?”</p><p>“Not at this point in time, Your Honour!” Flynch replied with the smuggest grin possible. “As far as I’m concerned, this fine gentleman is welcome to get back to keeping us all safe!”</p><p>Phoenix pinched his brow.</p><p>“This always happens, doesn’t it?” he muttered to himself. “I’m so close, but they always slip through my fingers…”</p><p>He looked back up and saw Fenchurch smiling as he turned away from the witness stand.</p><p>So close, yet so far.</p><p>The story of Phoenix Wright’s life.</p><p>What had he been thinking taking this on?</p><p>Maybe he <em> had </em> deserved to lose everything after all…</p><p>“HOLD IT!”</p><p>The only thing that startled Phoenix more than the shout was the bench he was leaning on shuddering under the weight of his daughter’s stomp.</p><p>“Officer Fenchurch!” she cried, and Phoenix looked around just in time to see her give her most dramatic point possible. “Don’t you DARE take one more step!”</p><p>“T-Trucy?!” Phoenix stammered in disbelief.</p><p>“Daddy, don’t you remember?” Trucy leaned forward, her fists clenched in determination. “You still have something that ties this guy to what happened in the freight car!”</p><p>“I do?” Phoenix flipped through his journal to his list of evidence. “Hang on…”</p><p>“You know what I mean, right?” asked Trucy. “Something he <em> should </em> have but doesn’t!”</p><p>She stepped back onto her chair and turned to the gallery.</p><p>“Mr Layton!” she called. “Professor, are you still here?”</p><p>“How may I be of assistance, young lady?” came the reply from somewhere in the crowd.</p><p>“Go check Officer Liverpool!” Trucy commanded. “See if he still has his handcuffs!”</p><p>“Of course, Trucy. It would be my pleasure.”</p><p>The dining car’s door clicked open and a familiar top hat was visible for only a moment before it disappeared into the foyer.</p><p>“Handcuffs…” Phoenix muttered.</p><p>And then he realised that something solid was pressing into his skin. Something in his back pocket.</p><p>“Ah!” He gasped and reached around to take it out. “Hey, Officer Fenchurch?”</p><p>“Yeah, what?” snapped Fenchurch.</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t help but smile as he pulled that something solid out of his pocket and held it out, hanging off his gloved finger.</p><p>“Do you still have yours?” he asked. “Or did you leave them behind with someone?”</p><p>When Fenchurch saw the silver cuffs dangling from Phoenix’s finger, the sound that came from his throat was somewhere between a gasp and a scream.</p><p>Something like “ASGH!”</p><p>“Judging by that reaction, I’m going out on a limb and assuming these are yours.” Phoenix pushed himself up and sat on the table, idly twirling the handcuffs around on his finger and stopping just short of coquettishly crossing his legs. “Quite a coincidence, don’t you think? These are the same handcuffs that were used to restrain me while I listened to Officer Liverpool being murdered.”</p><p>He swung the handcuffs into his hand and caught them.</p><p>“Now why would <em> your </em> handcuffs have been used to restrain me?” he pondered.</p><p>“S-shut up!” Fenchurch whipped out his flashlight again and brandished it as threateningly as he could. “Both you and that little brat next to you, <em> shut up!</em>”</p><p>“Interesting, isn’t it?” Phoenix laid the handcuffs down on the bench beside him. “Let’s take a moment to imagine a world where it was Officer Liverpool who was responsible for my abduction, which I assume is the conclusion most people in this court may have come to since he was the only other person in there.”</p><p>He tossed his journal into the air and caught it one-handed.</p><p>“If that was the case,” he continued, “why would he have used <em> your </em> handcuffs to do that?”</p><p>“You can’t prove those are mine! You’ve got nothing on me but conjecture!” Fenchurch pointed at the cuffs in question with his other hand gripping his flashlight ever tighter.</p><p>“Then why don’t you show us your handcuffs?” asked Phoenix, crossing his legs. “If you can’t, then I’d be happy to do it for you.”</p><p>“Shut up!” Fenchurch yelled. “Shut your goddamn mouth!”</p><p>“Watch your language, there are children present.” Phoenix flipped open his journal to his evidence list. “Of course, another question stems from this: why did you have to kidnap me in the first place?”</p><p>He cast a look sideways, watching sweat beading on Fenchurch’s brow as his knuckles whitened around his flashlight.</p><p>“All I was doing was looking for a bathroom that wasn’t gross and stepped through an unlocked door,” Phoenix pointed out. “You didn’t have any reason to knock me out and blindfold me with my own hat, did you?”</p><p>He closed his journal on his finger and tapped it against his chin.</p><p>“Unless, of course,” he said, “there was something you were worried I was going to stumble across…”</p><p>“That’s enough!” cried Fenchurch. “Shut up! Your Honour, make him shut up!”</p><p>“Why would I?” The judge looked between the two men with a smile of pure delight. “This is awfully exciting!”</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>Phoenix’s smile didn’t fade as he looked over at Flynch, who was sweating almost as much as Fenchurch.</p><p>“Mr Wright, don’t go thinking I can’t see straight through your bluff!” squealed the prosecutor. “Unless you have something that can show what you think Officer Fenchurch was so concerned about-”</p><p>“Well, what a coincidence!” Phoenix said happily. “I think I have just the piece of evidence to answer that question!”</p><p>He opened up his journal at the point he’d marked with his finger.</p><p>“Officer Fenchurch,” he said.</p><p>Fenchurch growled under his breath.</p><p>“Those bags Ms Cykes hid herself beside,” Phoenix said. “Those don’t contain flour, sugar or anything of the sort. And you know that, don’t you?”</p><p>The officer’s growl rose in volume and pitch. His hand, tightening even more on his flashlight, was shaking like a maraca.</p><p>“Ms Cykes also mentioned that she heard you getting quite frantic,” Phoenix recalled. “Did Liverpool discover your little operation?”</p><p>The flashlight’s metal exterior splintered under the officer’s fingers.</p><p>“Or maybe he was your partner in crime and he wanted out, and you decided that he had to be silenced. I find it conspicuous that I haven’t heard a single word of denial from you in quite a while now…”</p><p>“YOU <b> <em>BASTARD!”</em> </b></p><p>The flashlight exploded in Fenchurch’s hand and he fell to his knees with a scream.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Professor Layton,” the driver addressed the man now positioned at the witness stand, “would you mind sharing your findings with us all?”</p><p>Layton nodded, gently holding his hat in place by its brim.</p><p>“Mr Wright’s suspicions were correct,” he reported. “Officer Liverpool was still in possession of his handcuffs. While I was in that carriage, I also took the liberty of examining the crate young Ms Cykes was hiding in.”</p><p>“And what did you find there?” asked Phoenix, who had retaken his proper position beside his daughter.</p><p>The Professor lowered his hand from his hat.</p><p>“It’s as we suspected, Mr Wright,” he replied. “Under a thin layer of cloth is at least several hundred pounds’ worth of cocaine. Perhaps even thousands. Not only that, but I discovered <em> this </em> wedged underneath the stash.”</p><p>And then, on the table, he rested a handgun.</p><p>“My goodness,” muttered the judge, “that’s…”</p><p>“I don’t want to confirm anything at this stage,” said Layton, “but I would estimate it to measure around .22 calibre. I suspect it to have been placed there in the minutes prior to the trial but following my first investigation.”</p><p>Phoenix nodded.</p><p>“Okay, Officer Fenchurch,” he said. “How about telling us the truth?”</p><p>Layton stepped back from the stand to make room for the defeated officer, who stood with his shoulders slumped and his hand wrapped in bandages.</p><p>He glared up at Phoenix from under his brows.</p><p>“…you ruined everything,” he snarled. “You and that stowaway bint. Our operation was going fine until you Yanks showed up and stuck your noses where they didn’t belong.”</p><p>He clenched his fist even though the action spread fresh blood across his bandages.</p><p>“Just you being there was enough to start Dave panicking,” he growled, “thinking we were about to get blown open. I had to shut him up.”</p><p>He slammed his abused hand on the witness stand/table. The handgun clattered on the shaken surface.</p><p>“I HAD TO!” he screamed. “He was going to turn us both in! Everything we’d put together would’ve been for nothing! You just HAD to blunder in, didn’t you? You ruined EVERYTHING!”</p><p>“No he didn’t.”</p><p>The officer turned his grimace of pain and fury to the girl who stood beside the Professor.</p><p>“What?!” he demanded.</p><p>“He didn’t ruin anything, Officer Fenchurch,” Athena replied calmly. “You did. You’re the one who decided to attack Mr Wright rather than simply directing him out of the freight car. You’re the one who decided your friend had to die instead of putting a little bit of effort towards talking him down. And you <em> know </em> it.”</p><p>She folded her arms with a triumphant smile.</p><p>“Don’t try to hide it, Officer Fenchurch,” she added. “I can hear your feelings loud and clear.”</p><p>Fenchurch’s hand slipped down by his side.</p><p>“…s-shut up…” he mumbled weakly.</p><p>“You’re the one who did this to yourself, Officer Fenchurch.” Athena’s smile faded away. “I’m curious to know how well you’ll live with it.”</p><p>Fenchurch didn’t say another word.</p><p>A pair of non-corrupt security officers stepped up beside him and he was ushered away from the stand.</p><p>“…w-well then…” The judge cleared her throat. “Does either the defence or prosecution have anything further to add?”</p><p>“The prosecution…” Flynch’s sigh was almost heavy enough to derail the train. “…rests, Your Honour.”</p><p>“Same here.” Phoenix rubbed his eyes again. “The defence really, <em> desperately </em>wants to rest.”</p><p>The driver smiled.</p><p>“If that’s all,” she said, “then I suppose this court finds the defendant, Athena Cykes, not guilty!”</p><p>She slammed her glass down on her table and the gathered passengers erupted into applause and whoops of joy.</p><p>“Court is adjourned, then!” called the no-longer-judge. “Now let’s put this dining car back to how it should be!”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Mr Wright, that was amazing!” Athena clutched her hands together in glee.</p><p>Phoenix bashfully rubbed the back of his head, trying to support himself on the corridor wall.</p><p>“You really think so, huh?” he asked.</p><p>“Of course I do!” cried Athena. “Officer Fenchurch’s stubbornness was deafening! There was no way he was planning to give in and tell the truth but you…”</p><p>She stepped back and allowed a passenger through to find their compartment.</p><p>“You were <em> savage!</em>” she cheered. “It was incredible! You tore him to shreds like it was nothing!”</p><p>“She’s telling the truth, Dad.” Trucy tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. “I know it’s been a while, but you’ve still got it! You’re going to take the legal world by storm when you finally make your comeback!”</p><p>She had that sparkle in her eyes again. Phoenix didn’t know if he could find it in himself to snuff that sparkle out.</p><p>“…when I make my comeback, huh?” was all he could think of to say.</p><p>“That was some impressive bluffing, Mr Wright.”</p><p>Phoenix felt himself flush as the pair of English gentlemen entered the passenger carriage.</p><p>“Was it really that obvious?” he sighed.</p><p>“Maybe not to an idiot like Officer Fenchurch,” said Luke, “but the Professor saw right through you. You didn’t have any way of knowing for sure if that man was responsible, did you?”</p><p>“His behaviour spoke loudly enough,” Phoenix shrugged. “You remember it, don’t you? He did something in that freight car that I didn’t get a chance to bring up.”</p><p>“What was that?” asked Athena. “Sorry, I think I missed it.”</p><p>“Ah, so you noticed it too,” Layton said with an appreciative smile.</p><p>“Don’t leave the audience in suspense for too long!” Trucy complained. “Tell us the trick already!”</p><p>“Do you remember, Trucy?” asked Phoenix, and he nodded in the direction of the freight car. “When Fenchurch first walked into the carriage, Luke pointed out that you’d found me looking like I’d been kidnapped, but he didn’t specify which of us was Mr Wright. For all he knew, the Professor could’ve been Mr Wright.”</p><p>“But Fenchurch began addressing him all the same,” Layton explained. “It became clear to me in that moment that he knew far more than he was letting on, and that with the right kind of prodding, he would have no choice but to ‘spill the beans’ as it were.”</p><p>“I thought it was strange too,” added Luke, “although it took me until after I’d already finished my testimony to figure it out.”</p><p>Phoenix tried to force back a yawn.</p><p>“In any case, I’m glad that’s all over.” He looked down at his ‘client’ again. “What’re you going to do now?”</p><p>Athena blushed and started raking her fingers through her hair.</p><p>“Well, because I helped catch a murderer,” she replied, “the judge- uh, Ms Carrie’s agreed not to press charges on me for trespassing or fare evasion. So long as I don’t hide in any other cargo crates, I’ll be A-Okay until I can get to university!”</p><p>Layton stroked his chin and hummed in thought.</p><p>“You claimed to be an analytical psychologist, did you not?” he asked. “Is that your field of study?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Athena replied, “but I’m not really qualified yet. I still have a few years to go before I can call it official.”</p><p>“Are you sure that’s all you want to do?”</p><p>She looked up at her ‘lawyer’ in confusion.</p><p>“Daddy?” said Trucy. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“I mean the way you dismantled Fenchurch back there was pretty impressive,” Phoenix explained. “You psychologically analysed him, didn’t you? Right there on the stand.”</p><p>He eyed her with a sly little smirk.</p><p>“Have you ever wondered what sort of things you could accomplish if you were to apply those skills in a more professional legal capacity?”</p><p>Athena almost jumped back in shock.</p><p>“Y-you mean…” she stammered. “…use analytical psychology as a… as a lawyer?”</p><p>“Defence or prosecution, you’d be a force to be reckoned with,” Phoenix told her. “I’m not saying you <em> have </em> to, by any means, but don’t throw away the possibility, okay?”</p><p>Athena’s eyes darted every which way as she processed the suggestion.</p><p>She swallowed hard.</p><p>“…there, um…”</p><p>She shrank in on herself and rubbed her lower arm.</p><p>“…there <em> is </em>somebody I was hoping to save,” she confessed. “I wanted to use my psychology to do that, but I wasn’t sure if it would be enough…”</p><p>She took a deep breath and looked back up at Phoenix.</p><p>“…o-okay!” She slapped a fist into her other hand. “Okay, I’ll try my best!”</p><p>“Here.”</p><p>Phoenix pulled a crumpled sheet of colourful paper out of his pocket and held it out to her. “This is my business.”</p><p>Layton and Luke leaned forward to read the business listed in big, bright lettering: <em> Wright Talent Agency. </em></p><p>“I’d hesitate to say we’re a law firm right now,” said Phoenix, “but if you decide that’s the path you want to walk down…” He winked. “I’ll be sure to save a spot for you.”</p><p>Athena took the flyer and hugged it to her chest.</p><p>“Thank you!” she cried. “Thank you so much! I’d better go, Ms Carrie promised to buy me brunch, but thank you!”</p><p>And with that, she ran down the corridor and disappeared into the carriage-splitting foyer.</p><p>Phoenix maintained his smile just long enough to see her off.</p><p>As soon as she was gone, he released a long, heavy breath.</p><p>What a morning <em> this </em> had been.</p><p>“Still striving to improve people’s lives, I see, Mr Wright.”</p><p>When he looked up at the Professor, it was to be met with that same gentle smile, not with the disappointed frown that Phoenix felt he deserved.</p><p>“…I do my best,” he replied.</p><p>“Okay, Daddy!” Trucy tugged on his jacket until he looked down at her. “Enough is enough! You HAVE to tell me how you know the Professor and Luke!”</p><p>“So he really didn’t tell you?” Luke gaped. “Mr Wright, I’m shocked. <em> Shocked</em>, I tell you!”</p><p>“It’s certainly quite an entertaining tale, young Trucy,” said Layton. “How about we return to our compartment and we can regale you with the story of Labyrinthia?”</p><p>“Can you?” Trucy cried in delight. “Dad! Dad, can we?!”</p><p>Phoenix was about to look down at his wrist when he remembered that he’d sold his watch.</p><p>“How long do we have until we arrive in Aberdeen?” he asked.</p><p>“The train is scheduled to arrive at 3pm,” Layton replied. “I estimate that we have around three and a half hours until that time. That’s certainly enough to tell this young lady everything about our previous adventure, wouldn’t you think?”</p><p>“Yes!” Luke cheered. “Yes, we <em> have </em> to tell you!”</p><p>“Can it at least wait until we’ve gone back to our compartment?” Phoenix somehow managed to suppress another yawn. “I’ve been on my feet for hours on end and I’m <em> really </em> starting to feel it.”</p><p>“Of course, my friend,” the Professor agreed. “After all, storytelling is best accomplished with the aid of a hot, fresh cup of tea.”</p><p>“<em> Yes!</em>” Trucy punched the air in triumph. “Come on, Dad! Let’s go! It sounds like this is going to be an awesome story!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Shadow Over Fatargan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Goodbye, Mr Wright! Thank you!”</p><p>Phoenix responded to the young girl’s shout with one final wave of parting.</p><p>“Good luck, Athena!” Trucy shouted with her own enthusiastic wave. “Bye!”</p><p>Layton chuckled quietly to himself as he watched the small redhead hurrying away, fading into the crowds that gathered and dissipated in the foyer.</p><p>“You make friends everywhere you go, don’t you?” he commented.</p><p>The smile slipped away from Phoenix’s face.</p><p>“I guess,” he replied.</p><p>“Professor?”</p><p>The Professor in question looked back as his apprentice approached, hauling their suitcases behind him.</p><p>“I’m not sure Mr Wright is in the mood to talk,” Luke said quietly, leaning in to keep the conversation private.</p><p>He looked up at Phoenix’s face, leading Layton to do the same. With the shadows around his eyes and the stubble all over his cheeks, the poor man really did look exhausted. He shivered violently and clutched his jacket tighter around his neck, and made a snide comment to Trucy about how cold it was in Scotland.</p><p>“Yes, I think you may be correct,” Layton replied, making sure he too couldn’t be heard. “Nevertheless…”</p><p>He took his suitcase’s handle from Luke. The last thing the poor boy needed was to hurt himself trying to carry everything alone.</p><p>“I suppose this may be where we part ways again,” he told his friend.</p><p>“No! What?!” Trucy sounded like she could start crying at any moment. “Please don’t say you’re going!”</p><p>“I wish it wasn’t so,” Layton replied, adjusting his hat by the brim, “but Luke and I are on the trail of a particularly vexing mystery. Not only that, but we need to find the terminal to catch our bus. We wouldn’t want it to leave without us.”</p><p>“I hope we get to see each other again, Mr Wright!” Luke added with a smile.</p><p>Phoenix didn’t seem in the mood to return the gesture. He kept his eyes downcast, twitching his fingers on his suitcase’s handle, and glanced at his daughter’s saddened face.</p><p>“To be honest, you two,” he said, almost too softly to hear, “part of me wishes we hadn’t met up again.”</p><p>“Eh?!” Luke’s jaw dropped in shock.</p><p>“Whyever not?” asked Layton, trying his hardest to restrain his disappointment.</p><p>“It’s complicated,” Phoenix told them. “Not something I’m all that comfortable talking about.”</p><p>He looked up at the station’s exit. The sky outside was dull and grey, threatening either rain or snow at any moment, and a cold breeze blew through the doors and into the foyer and brushed over all their cheeks. Layton gripped his hat again in case it threatened to blow away.</p><p>“Plus it’d take too long to explain,” Phoenix said, “and I don’t want to make you guys late.”</p><p>“Daddy?” Trucy stepped up to him and took his hand into her own. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.”</p><p>Phoenix looked down at her again, this time with a small, grateful smile. For a moment it seemed almost as though he had forgotten anybody else was with him.</p><p>Layton cleared his throat.</p><p>“W-well then,” he said, “I suppose…”</p><p>He held up his hand, hoping for a shake of parting and providing an accompanying smile.</p><p>“Farewell, Mr Wright,” he said. “Do enjoy the rest of your holiday.”</p><p>As seconds ticked past and Phoenix didn’t accept the handshake, his smile began to fade. The taller man just stared at that hand as though it was offensive.</p><p>Was it? Should Layton have removed his glove first? Or maybe, since Mr Wright was American, he should have offered a high-five or a fist bump instead. Was that the problem?</p><p>After what felt like forever, Phoenix looked back up at the Professor’s face and spoke:</p><p>“Good luck.”</p><p>Then he turned back to his daughter.</p><p>“C’mon, Truce,” he said, and he walked away almost too quickly for her to keep up.</p><p>“Dad, wait up!” cried Trucy, hurrying in his wake.</p><p>Layton tried to watch him move through the crowds that milled around in the station’s foyer, but even with how vividly coloured his hat was, it wasn’t long before both he and his daughter had become indistinct among the commuters and schoolkids.</p><p>Beside him, he heard Luke sigh, although he couldn’t tell if it was from frustration or disappointment.</p><p>“There he goes, I suppose,” Layton said.</p><p>“What on earth was that about?” asked Luke. “I understand we haven’t known him for very long, but I certainly don’t recall him being so rude the last time we met!”</p><p>“Times and people change, Luke,” Layton told him, and beckoned his apprentice to follow him out of the station. “Whatever happened to Mr Wright within the past couple of years would appear to have left him terribly embittered. However…”</p><p>He looked back to make sure Luke was paying attention.</p><p>“…a true gentleman doesn’t pry into a person’s private affairs,” he said, “unless it’s absolutely necessary.”</p><p>It seemed Luke was still rather terrible at masking his emotions, especially when it came to being annoyed.</p><p>“I guess you’re right,” he said, “but I wish he’d at least told us where Trucy came from!”</p><p>He paused to reset his suitcase’s wheels on the floor.</p><p>“At her age,” he continued, “when we were in Labyrinthia, she would’ve already been eight years old! Mr Wright would certainly have mentioned her!”</p><p>He fell silent as a large lorry rumbled past the station and waited for it to pass.</p><p>“And what happened to Maya?!” he cried.</p><p>“Don’t forget that Ms Fey was certainly no child when we met her.” Layton paused to fish a map out of his pocket. “I have no doubt that she’s living her own, perfectly contented life. Although why she didn’t accompany Mr Wright on his current venture to Great Britain is definitely a mystery.”</p><p>Luke groaned in disappointment as the Professor examined his map.</p><p>“I suppose if she <em> was </em> here,” he said, “she’d be delighted to explain where Trucy came from.”</p><p>“As I said, it’s not our place to pry.” Layton pulled their tickets out of that same pocket and compared them to his map. “Not only that, but I have a feeling that even if we had asked him directly, he would never have agreed to tell us. In any case, let’s proceed to…”</p><p>His face fell when he noticed the distance they would have to travel.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” asked Luke.</p><p>Layton folded down his map.</p><p>“It would appear we’ll have to hurry through the Union Square centre if we wish to catch our bus on time,” he explained. “I had assumed the bus bays were a part of this main station, but-”</p><p>“But we only have a few minutes!” cried Luke. “Come on, Professor! Hurry!”</p><p>“Luke, wait!”</p><p>With one hand firmly gripping his suitcase and the other clutching his hat to his head, Layton sprinted after his apprentice in hot pursuit.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Alright, here we are!”</p><p>Layton bent double, clutching his knees, and gasped for breaths that came cold and painful. Every pant felt like it was freezing his throat, yet he somehow felt far too warm and like he needed to take off his coat.</p><p>Beside him, Luke fell to his knees, equally as exhausted.</p><p>“I wish we could have stopped for a sausage roll!” he complained as he wiped his brow on his sleeve.</p><p>“Luke,” Layton said, “you <em> just </em> had lunch on the train.”</p><p>“Didn’t I tell you, Professor?” Luke half-laughed, half-spluttered. “While I was in America, I grew a second stomach specifically for sausage rolls!”</p><p>Layton couldn’t avoid a choking laugh at his remark.</p><p>“Either that or you’ve spoken with Ms Fey a little too much,” he said, and he brushed down his coat as he straightened up. “Come along, let’s find our bus.”</p><p>Now was the time for deductive reasoning to come into play. Layton cradled his chin in his hand and closed his eyes to think.</p><p>Fatargan was a small village. A place people were far more likely to come from than to go to, by the looks of things. Not only that, but it was isolated by its mountainous location, so any buses travelling there would likely need to be lightweight. Either that, or they would have to go only one at a time, without travelling very quickly.</p><p>With this in consideration, nobody would travel to Fatargan unless they absolutely had to. Heck, it was doubtful that many people even knew about this village’s existence.</p><p>In which case, the solution to the puzzle seemed very simple.</p><p>The bus they had to take would be the one least populated. The emptiest of the bus bays.</p><p>Layton opened his eyes, seized his suitcase and beckoned for Luke to follow him. Luke snapped out of the stupor of waiting and jogged to catch up with the Professor, who approached a driver who was waiting beside the bus’s door.</p><p>“Excuse me, sir,” he said as politely as he could. “Where might we find the bus to Fatargan?”</p><p>The driver seemed almost startled by his sudden appearance.</p><p>“Wow, another passenger!” he exclaimed. “Right here, mate. We’re never exactly chock-a-block on this service, so you’ve got your pick of the seating.”</p><p>“Ah, thank you!” Nothing quite thrilled Layton like discovering his solution had been correct. “Just give us a moment to store our luggage and we’ll be sure to get on board.”</p><p>He lifted his luggage from below, taking the most logical route, and pushed it into the bus’s cargo compartment. Luke, meanwhile, was beading with sweat again as he staggered under his suitcase’s weight; the poor boy had tried to lift the entire thing at once.</p><p>“I- <em> oof </em>…” Layton caught the boy to prevent him from tripping over his own feet as he dropped his suitcase beside the Professor’s. “I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have packed so much…”</p><p>“You did choose a rather large suitcase, Luke,” Layton pointed out.</p><p>“I didn’t know how long this trip was going to go on for!” Luke retorted. “For all I know, we could be in the Cairngorms for…”</p><p>He trailed off, distracted by something on Layton’s other side, and the Professor turned to see what had caught his attention.</p><p>A little girl in a black dress and matching red cloak and top hat, marching towards them with an expression of utmost determination, swinging her arm as dramatically as she could as she towed her suitcase behind her.</p><p>“Trucy?” Layton blinked a few times to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. “What on earth are you-”</p><p>“Trucy!” And then her father came running into view. “Trucy, come on! Wait up! What are you doing?!”</p><p>The small magician stopped with a dramatic stomp and held up a finger of declaration.</p><p>“Professor and Luke!” She spoke as loudly and clearly as she could as Phoenix finally caught up with her. “Dad and I are coming with you!”</p><p>“You are?” Luke asked hopefully.</p><p>“We are?!” Phoenix looked as though he could collapse in shock. “I-I mean no! No, we aren’t! Trucy, we’re going to Loch Ness!” He pointed at a different bus bay. “Our bus leaves in five minutes!”</p><p>“Is Loch Ness going somewhere?” Trucy gave her father an <em> incredibly </em> pointed look; Layton had to cover his mouth so that nobody would notice him laughing, and only laughed more when he saw Luke doing the same.</p><p>“W-well…” Phoenix nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “No, it’s not, but-”</p><p>“Then we can join your friends!” Trucy proclaimed triumphantly. “Come on, let’s go!”</p><p>“Trucy, give me a break!” Phoenix ran forward to catch her suitcase as she started lifting it into the cargo compartment. “You don’t even know if they want us coming along!”</p><p>This, at long last, gave Trucy reason to pause.</p><p>She dropped her suitcase and turned to the two English gentlemen, her eyes wide and brimming with tears, whining in the back of her throat like a puppy begging for treats.</p><p>Layton pulled down the brim of his hat to hide his struggle to keep a straight face.</p><p>“I certainly wouldn’t mind the company,” he said. “A mystery does tend to be easier solved the more minds there are to contemplate it. What do you think, Luke?”</p><p>Luke cleared his throat and forced back his smile.</p><p>“I suppose I don’t have anything <em> against </em> the idea of Mr Wright and Trucy coming with us,” he replied. “I’m just not sure if there’ll be enough room for all four of us when-”</p><p>“We can find room!” Trucy interjected. “Can’t we, Dad?”</p><p>“Trucy, work with me here.” Phoenix kneeled down in front of his daughter, trying his hardest to retain a patient smile. “You can’t just shove your way into somebody else’s vacation! Especially someone you don’t know all that well!”</p><p>“I would hardly call this an unwelcome intrusion, Mr Wright,” said Layton, earning himself a delighted gasp from Trucy. “I’d be delighted to share another adventure with you. Not only that…” He lifted the brim of his hat back up. “…but I’m sure your investigative talents would prove invaluable, given the nature of our current expedition.”</p><p>“YES!” Trucy punched the air in glee. “Daddy’s a GREAT investigator!”</p><p>She took hold of her suitcase again.</p><p>“Come on, Dad!” she said happily. “Help me put my suitcase away! Let’s go! Let’s go!”</p><p>Phoenix watched her grapple with her luggage and hung his head in defeat.</p><p>“…okay,” he sighed. “Okay, fine.”</p><p>He took her suitcase out of her hands and slid it into the compartment before reaching for his own.</p><p>“Do be careful-” Layton started, stepping forward to help.</p><p>“It’s okay, there’s plenty of room!” Luke reassured him.</p><p>Layton leaned down to peer into the cargo compartment as Phoenix pushed his suitcase in beside his daughter’s.</p><p>“No young girls hiding in here, from what I can tell,” the Professor reported.</p><p>“Now let’s get on board!” Trucy pelted away from her father and jumped onto the bus.</p><p>“Wait, hang on!” Luke stumbled briefly and ran after her. “Make sure we’re all seated close together!”</p><p>Layton chuckled quietly to himself at the sight of the excitable children.</p><p>“It seems fate has drawn us together yet again, Mr Wright,” he remarked to his friend.</p><p>But as Phoenix straightened up, he seemed anything but happy, and he barely even glanced in the Professor’s direction.</p><p>“Yeah,” he said softly. “It does.”</p><p>He dusted off his knees and then turned to board the bus, and Layton tried to suppress his disappointment at the antisocial behaviour as he closed the cargo compartment.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“So if you guys aren’t here on vacation, what’re you doing?”</p><p>Trucy stood up on her seat to look over its back at her new friends, wavering on her feet as the bus rounded a bend.</p><p>“You heard earlier, didn’t you? These guys solve mysteries together.” Phoenix twisted around as well, but decided to simply kneel on his seat rather than stand on it, and hugged his headrest to keep from falling over into the aisle.</p><p>“That isn’t all we do!” cried Luke.</p><p>Layton pulled the bulging and by-now-worn envelope out of his coat pocket as his apprentice’s face fell.</p><p>“…but yes,” said Luke, “that’s what we’re doing right now.”</p><p>Layton couldn’t avoid a gentle chuckle.</p><p>“Specifically,” he said as he opened the envelope, “a missing person sort of mystery.”</p><p>“Oooooh!” Trucy cooed in delight, stumbling a little as the bus ran over a pothole. “What kind of person? Tell us! Tell us!”</p><p>It was almost like Maya Fey had never left, Layton considered as he looked down at the envelope.</p><p>“Allow me to explain,” he said, and held the paper up so that his new travelling companions could see. “Several days ago, I received a letter from a person who called themselves the Great Thief Yatagarasu. Are either of you familiar with any person who goes by that title?”</p><p>Father and daughter shared a thoughtful look. Both seemed to conclude that no, they didn’t know anything, and they shook their heads in response to the Professor’s question.</p><p>“Yes, I was afraid that would be the case.” Layton reached into the envelope and found the card this thief had included. “Perhaps you may recognise this symbol? It would appear to be the Great Thief’s personal insignia.”</p><p>Phoenix took the card from Layton’s fingers and examined the emblem printed on its surface, brow creased in concentration and humming in contemplation.</p><p>“It’s a pretty symbol,” said Trucy, “but I’ve never seen it before.”</p><p>She tapped a finger on her chin, eyes cast skyward.</p><p>“At least, I don’t think I have,” she added. “Dad, how about you?”</p><p>‘Dad’ sighed.</p><p>“I swear I’ve seen this thing before,” he said as he passed the card back, “but I can’t place it. Same with the name; I swear I’ve heard it <em> somewhere </em> but I can’t remember where. Sorry, Professor.”</p><p>“It’s quite alright, my friend.” Layton gave Phoenix a patient smile as he took the card from his hand. “I’m certainly not at all familiar with this symbol or the person it belongs to, but they seem to have made themselves quite intimately familiar with me.”</p><p>He eased the folded letter out of the envelope and opened it to make sure he had a reference ready.</p><p>“The letter they’ve sent me shows that they’ve conducted quite a degree of research on the mysteries I’ve solved with Luke over the years,” he explained. “Normally this wouldn’t be a problem – I wouldn’t want to deprive anybody of knowledge or refuse an indulgence of curiosity – except these are mysteries that had resolutions we’ve sworn to secrecy.”</p><p>He lowered the letter so that he could look at Phoenix and Trucy. It was imperative that they understood how important his point was.</p><p>“They are events, circumstances and people that the world at large was never informed of,” he told them, “and for good reason, but this person somehow found out about them all the same. They’ve made it quite clear that unless I do as they say, the information they’ve gathered will be released to the general public.”</p><p>“Oh boy,” Phoenix sighed. “I’m going out on a limb and assuming that wouldn’t be good.”</p><p>Layton nodded.</p><p>“Your assumption is correct,” he confirmed. “For the world to discover these matters would be nothing short of disastrous. I hope you understand if for the moment, I keep them secret from you two as well.”</p><p>“That’s okay, Professor!” Trucy replied peppily. “Stage magic is all about never revealing secrets, so we totally understand! Right, Dad?”</p><p>“…yeah,” said Phoenix.</p><p>This asocial nature was going to become quite bothersome if he kept it up for much longer, Layton thought.</p><p>“It’s pretty presumptuous, if you ask me.” Luke crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air. “We would’ve been happy to solve this mystery, but this person felt the need to blackmail the Professor into finding this person. It’s really quite rude!”</p><p>Layton chuckled. How he’d missed his young friend’s loyalty.</p><p>“I can’t say you’re wrong,” he said. “All this person had to do was notify me and I would have been delighted to solve their mystery, but I do understand their hesitance. I’m hardly a detective, after all.”</p><p>He looked down at the card again. The symbol was more or less burned into his memory by now.</p><p>“They may have assumed I would decline,” he speculated, “if they failed to provide anything of archaeological interest.”</p><p>“So who do they want you to find?” asked Trucy. “Do you know what happened to them?”</p><p>“If we knew what had happened to them, we wouldn’t be on this bus!” Phoenix pointed out.</p><p>It felt like forever since the Professor had enjoyed an expedition this much.</p><p>“Indeed,” he laughed. “In any case, it would appear that the last time anybody heard from this man was shortly before he departed for an isolated village in the Cairngorm mountains and yes, before either of you ask, that village is the destination this bus is taking us to.”</p><p>He looked down at the envelope again. How much more stress could it handle before it crumbled in his hands?</p><p>“I have no idea why this man was headed there,” he continued, “but he failed to depart it or make contact in any of the ways he had promised to, so it would appear one of his friends took it upon themselves to have him found.”</p><p>“Good thing they picked the best in the business!” Luke said happily.</p><p>“Who is this guy, anyway?” asked Trucy.</p><p>Layton gently tugged the dossier out of the envelope.</p><p>“I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t heard of him,” he said. “<em>I </em> certainly hadn’t. Fortunately our blackmailer decided to be accommodating of our lack of knowledge, and they were courteous enough to include a small dossier on their missing friend.”</p><p>He passed the folded wad of paper to Phoenix.</p><p>“Tell me, you two,” he said as the paper was taken from his hand, “have either of you seen this man before or heard his name?”</p><p>Phoenix unfolded the dossier.</p><p>The moment he saw the photo stapled to the top of the page, every last drop of colour drained from his face and his jaw fell slack. Trucy gasped in horror, clapping a hand to her mouth, while Phoenix only stared at the page in silence.</p><p>“Daddy…” Trucy whispered. “…that’s…”</p><p>“…yeah,” Phoenix muttered. “Yeah, I noticed.”</p><p>His gaze became blank as he folded the paper up.</p><p>“So you <em> do </em>know this man?” asked Luke.</p><p>“We’re, uh…” Phoenix cleared his throat. “…we’re acquainted.”</p><p>He passed the dossier back to the Professor, keeping his eyes averted the whole time.</p><p>“So he vanished, huh?” he said simply.</p><p>“It would seem so.” Layton removed the postcard from its envelope. “And this is his last known location.”</p><p>He presented the postcard to Phoenix, who took it for himself and his daughter to examine.</p><p>“Huh,” said Phoenix. “Weird. You’d expect it to be creepier if someone disappeared there.” He turned it over in his hands to find nothing written on the other side. “If this postcard is anything to be believed, it’s a rather nice-looking place.”</p><p>“I can’t help thinking it looks like the sort of town that’s constantly having raffles to raise money for the church roof,” Luke commented, “because it’s <em> always </em> the church roof. If not that, then at least a village fete with Victoria sponge and a tombola and a how-many-jelly-beans-in-the-jar competition.”</p><p>Phoenix stared at the boy in bemusement.</p><p>“…I know those were words, but…” he mumbled.</p><p>Layton found himself laughing again.</p><p>“I wouldn’t worry, Mr Wright,” he said happily. “Given how isolated this particular village is, I doubt you’ll have to expand your vocabulary too much to fit in with the citizenry.”</p><p>“How do you even pronounce this name?” Trucy took the postcard and squinted at the name emblazoned in its centre. “I want to make a guess, but I can’t help thinking it’d be wrong since we’re in Scotland. Is it… Fay-tagan? Fatar-gain?”</p><p>“Fatargan.”</p><p>The voice came from several rows down, close to the front of the bus, and it was a voice that none of the travellers had ever heard before. All four cast their eyes in its direction and saw the back of a dark-haired head.</p><p>“Huh?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Nothing to worry about, lass.” The stranger dismissively waved his hand. “If it ain’t Gaelic, it’s said the way it’s spelled. Aberdeen, Inverness, Glasgow and now Fatargan, see?”</p><p>He leaned up on his seat and turned to look at them; his eyes, olive green and swollen with exhaustion, were the only parts of his face that any of them could see.</p><p>“Don’t blame you for getting confused,” he said, “seeing as English is the most ridiculous language on this planet. Did you know it’s the only bloody language in the world that has spelling competitions?”</p><p>Without waiting for a reply, he turned around again, spilling a dark ponytail across the top of his seat’s headrest.</p><p>“…no, I…” Trucy said weakly. “…I didn’t know that.”</p><p>“Pardon me, my good man.” Layton stood up to see this stranger, one hand on his hat, the other on the back of Phoenix’s seat to steady himself as the bus rounded a bend. “I hadn’t noticed you until just now. Might I enquire as to the nature of <em> your </em> travels to this village?”</p><p>“Me? Business,” the man replied bluntly. “Saw a posting online asking for a new doctor and took it. Honestly believed I was going to be the only bugger on this bus until you lot went past me.”</p><p>He sat up higher and hooked a white-clad arm over his seat as he turned to look at them again. The stubble on his cheeks was shorter than Phoenix’s, not to mention far neater in trim, but he still carried a somewhat unkempt air about him.</p><p>“What’re you all headed out for, then?” he asked. “Heard you talking, but I couldn’t make out much.”</p><p>“We’re, uh…” Phoenix glanced around at his friends. “…we’re just visiting. We’re only staying for a couple of days, it’s nothing major.”</p><p>“Ha!” the stranger shouted mirthlessly. “You make it sound like you have a choice!”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Luke stood up to demand.</p><p>“I mean this is the only bus in and out of that village,” the man explained, “and it only comes this way once every five days. Hence why they needed someone <em> expertly </em>qualified staffing their medical office…” he ran a hand pridefully over his slicked-back hair, “…’coz lord knows they couldn’t get to a hospital if someone got hurt.”</p><p>Layton tried to hold back his frown. There was something to be said about egotistical people, but it wasn’t something a gentleman would ever allow himself to say in polite company.</p><p>“My apologies, good sir,” he said instead, “but I didn’t catch your name.”</p><p>“I didn’t throw it.” The stranger turned back to sit in his seat with a thump. “Name’s Bill. Bill Wallace. Most folks just call me Doctor Wallace.”</p><p>“Well, Dr Wallace,” said Layton, “it’s nice to know that we have someone to turn to should we ever encounter a medical emergency.”</p><p>Was that a sigh he just heard?</p><p>“So long as you don’t all come at once,” Dr Wallace replied, “then fine. It’s about time I got myself a bit of peace and quiet.”</p><p>And here the Professor had been, thinking Mr Wright was behaving antisocial, when the apparent king of antisocial behaviour had already been on this bus all along. Layton sat down, quelling the annoyance that was boiling in his stomach and storing it away in the back of his mind to perhaps make some tea with later.</p><p>“Are you alright, Mr Wright?” asked Luke. “You’re giving a very funny look at the Professor’s envelope.”</p><p>Layton looked up and noticed that indeed, Phoenix was eyeing the envelope in a rather curious way. He tucked all the documents back into it and slipped it into his pocket.</p><p>“I’m, just…” Phoenix swallowed. “…just thinking about the guy who disappeared. These are <em> mountains </em> after all.”</p><p>His eyes fell upon the passing scenery, which currently consisted of the craggy rock face of a cliff.</p><p>“Who’s to say he didn’t get lost?” he asked, his grip tightening on the back of his chair. “Get stuck in a cave or crevasse somewhere? What if he lost control of his car on the icy roads and drove into a gorge?!”</p><p>“Daddy, it’s okay!” Trucy leaned down and hugged her father’s arm. “He’s a smart guy, remember?”</p><p>Phoenix ripped his eyes away from the window and stared blankly ahead.</p><p>“…the smartest I know…” he muttered.</p><p>He blinked himself back into the present and turned to look at his daughter.</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right,” he told her. “He’s probably fine. Probably driving all the villagers insane as we speak.”</p><p>“You <em> do </em> know this man!” cried Luke. “He’s not just an acquaintance, is he?”</p><p>“If there’s anything you could tell us about this man,” said Layton, “I’m sure it would aid our investigation.”</p><p>“Hmm…” Phoenix stroked his chin. “I suggest trying the library first. I can’t think of any other place for an insufferable know-it-all like him to hunker down.”</p><p>Layton nodded, making a mental note of the suggestion. He’d been planning to visit the library as it was to read through their archive of newspapers. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d like all the hints he could get.</p><p>“Speaking of hunkering down,” said Luke, “I have a feeling that’s what we’ll all want to do as soon as we arrive. It’s January, after all. By the time we get there, I won’t be surprised if the sun’s already gone down!”</p><p>“Take another look at the map, my boy,” Layton said, and he offered his apprentice the envelope. “You’ll notice that the village is situated on the southern face of a mountain, and given its rather high altitude, I wouldn’t be surprised if its days are longer on average than any settlement at sea level.”</p><p>“I hope you’re right,” said Trucy, and she rubbed her grey-clad arms. “I was already surprised by how cold it was when we got off the train!”</p><p>“Are you sure you’re warm enough, sweetie?” asked Phoenix. “I can get my spare jacket out when we arrive if-”</p><p>“It’s okay, Daddy! I’m fine, I promise!”</p><p>“I sure hope so. Getting off that train was like stepping into a fridge.”</p><p>“I do understand what you’re talking about,” said Layton, and he looked out the other side of the bus at the foothills that rolled away into the distance. “I wouldn’t want to be outside at night once that sun falls below the horizon.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The bus shelter’s walls were built from the sort of stone bricks normally reserved for dividing paddocks in regions like the West Country. It stood under a tall and leafless willow tree that leaned down to kiss the bus’s windows once it had crossed over the bridge, and Layton feared for a moment that the rumbling of such a large vehicle’s engine might cause the structure to topple down.</p><p>“Well,” he said as the bus finally halted, “it seems that we’ve arrived.”</p><p>Dr Wallace had leapt to his feet before the bus had even stopped, and he jumped off as though his life depended on it. When the other passengers followed after him, the Americans among them paused at the door.</p><p>“Oh man,” Phoenix groaned, “it’s a totally different kind of cold up here, huh?”</p><p>He stepped down as Luke reached into the cargo compartment for his and the Professor’s luggage.</p><p>“Trucy, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked as he helped his daughter down from the bus.</p><p>Trucy lunged forward and hugged Phoenix around his waist.</p><p>“If I stay like this, I’ll be okay!” she declared.</p><p>“How about you, Luke?” Layton asked his shivering companion. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“I-I’m fine!” Luke spat through chattering teeth. “I’ll be okay! This coat-t-t-t-t-t-t’s really thick!”</p><p>Layton laughed at the blatant dishonesty as the Wright family retrieved their luggage from the compartment.</p><p>“Maybe it was a good idea to pack all that clothing after all,” he suggested.</p><p>Once all the bags had been removed, Phoenix pulled the compartment’s door down and slammed it shut, and slapped his hand on the echoing metal surface. He stepped back as the bus pulled away and drove down the bridge it had entered the town from – a bridge designated <em> Sunset Bridge </em> by the sign at its entry point – and gulped as his eyes tracked down into the gorge that bridge spanned.</p><p>Layton turned to Luke to make sure he was as alright as he had insisted and saw that the boy was shielding his eyes, even though the sky was still dull and overcast, and getting a sense of their surroundings. He could see a football field just up the hill to their left, a row of houses on the mountain face on the far side of that, a large hall hung with banners that by rights should long since have rotted in the damp…</p><p>He adjusted the brim of his hat and wondered if he should have brought earmuffs. When he turned back to check on Phoenix, he found the man wrapping a vivid red scarf around his daughter’s neck and chatting with her to make sure it was comfortable enough.</p><p>As soon as that was done, he straightened up and took hold of his suitcase.</p><p>“I’d say this is a parting of the ways for now, Mr Wright,” Layton said to him, “unless you want to accompany Luke and I to the cottage I’m renting for our visit here.”</p><p>“Thanks for the offer,” Phoenix replied as he and Trucy approached with luggage in tow, “but we’ll be okay. I noticed a tavern on the postcard you showed us and if there’s one thing I remember from Labyrinthia, it’s that a tavern means a place to sleep. Here’s hoping they’ve got a room free for us to stay in.”</p><p>“I understand,” said Layton. “Do let us know if-”</p><p>“Professor,” Phoenix interjected.</p><p>Layton eyed his friend with curiosity. It wasn’t common for him to be interrupted.</p><p>“If you find this guy,” said Phoenix, “could you…”</p><p>He frowned. Whatever he was hiding was definitely an uncomfortable subject.</p><p>“Just come tell me first, alright?” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll even be able to sleep knowing he could be around here somewhere.”</p><p>Was that the problem?</p><p>No, not all of it. He still carried that feeling of secrecy.</p><p>“Yes, of course,” Layton replied regardless. “As soon as I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Phoenix said as he began to walk away. “See you later. Truce, come on; let’s find ourselves a place to stay.”</p><p>“Don’t move too fast, Dad!” Trucy complained as she ran after her father.</p><p>“You’ll feel warmer once you get your heart pumping!”</p><p>“But my heart’s pumping all the time! If it didn’t, I’d drop dead!”</p><p>Layton straightened his hat as the pair rounded the bend and disappeared from view.</p><p>“Professor,” Luke said behind him, “do you think…”</p><p>The poor boy didn’t seem to know what to say, but it almost certainly involved the father and daughter who had just run out on their own little adventure.</p><p>“It may be prudent to give them some space, my boy,” Layton told him. “I may try broaching the topic later, but for now, the best course of action would be to allow Mr Wright to explain things to us in his own time.”</p><p>“At least now, we <em> have </em> time,” Luke pointed out as they started walking towards the football field. “I definitely didn’t see them coming! Did you, Professor?”</p><p>“Part of me had hoped,” Layton chuckled, “but I didn’t expect that hope to be realised. Come along then, Luke; we’ll have to stop at our cottage. We can’t take our luggage with us to the library, can we?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Their walk through town showed Phoenix and Trucy that it hadn’t just been the bus stop, nor had the postcard they had seen exaggerated anything. Every building in the town was constructed from that same kind of stone brick; not only that, but every roof was a dark brown thatch topped with a chimney. It almost seemed like a parody of quaint British villages, although when Phoenix had seen them on TV, they’d always looked pleasant and warm.</p><p>This place, on the other hand… even the slightest little breath sent spirals of steam spinning out into the air. Phoenix wondered for a moment if this might be what it was like to be his namesake.</p><p>No, not a phoenix. Maybe a dragon would be more appropriate.</p><p>The path into the village took them past the soccer field and its accompanying hall, dark and empty, and towards the post office where they saw their first citizen of this place. A woman who stepped out the door and descended the stairs outside it to slot a manila-coloured envelope into a red pillar box that stood below the entrance.</p><p>Trucy waved to her and wished her a good afternoon.</p><p>The woman frowned when she saw them and hurried away down a nearby slope, which closer inspection revealed to have stairs carved into its side.</p><p>Phoenix let out a sigh of appreciation as they approached those stairs and got a better look at the village spread out below them.</p><p>At a two-story structure that stood to the right of the steps, bookshelves visible through its iron-framed windows, a cosy little house set into its side and sandwiched against the rock shelf. At a building across a cobbled road that bore a large red cross above its door, indicating it to be the clinic that Dr Wallace had mentioned was his destination.</p><p>At a solid-looking wooden bridge that came into view as they descended the stairs and which led across another gorge – or perhaps it was the same one? It was difficult to tell – and ended at a cute little neighbourhood tucked away on a grassy shelf surrounded by sheer cliffs.</p><p>At a tower that loomed over the area, boasting a roofed platform at it’s top, and which bore a sign at the bottom of its open-air stairs that read <em> Only Ring for Emergencies</em>. A bell tower, it seemed. At a building that stood nearby which carried a checkerboard banner of blue and white above its door, and which Phoenix pointed to and informed his daughter must be the police station.</p><p>A red haired young man in a cap with a band of the same pattern sat on its doorstep, a book propped up on his long, gangly legs. When he noticed the pair walking past, he slipped through the door and disappeared.</p><p>At a small cove that stood across the cobbled road from that police station, carved into the stone ground, and that boasted a pond lush with weeds, lily-pads and flowers. A pond fed by a spring in the rock face that trickled from a broad crack; Phoenix warned his daughter not to get too close in case the stone ceiling collapsed, as it was already supported by pillars of wood.</p><p>It seemed that fear hadn’t occurred to the man who kneeled by the side of the pond.</p><p>“Dad, look!” Trucy waved in an effort to catch the man’s attention. “Hi, Dr Wallace!”</p><p>Dr Wallace glanced back over his shoulder.</p><p>“Hi,” he said.</p><p>He dipped some kind of tube into the water. Phoenix leaned around to get a better look and noticed it was made of glass.</p><p>“What’re you doing?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Taking a sample,” Dr Wallace replied.</p><p>Looking again, Phoenix saw something moving in the water. He took a step closer, careful not to slip on the slope leading down towards it, and noticed they were fish. Either koi fish or large goldfish. He couldn’t tell from this distance, not that he was exactly an ichthyologist to begin with.</p><p>“Nice looking pond,” he commented. “Almost like something out of a fairy tale.”</p><p>“And you’d know, wouldn’t you, Dad?” Trucy giggled.</p><p>Phoenix groaned at the unfortunate memories that had been dredged up during their train ride.</p><p>“Don’t remind me,” he pleaded.</p><p>The doctor raised the glass tube to eye level. A test tube, it turned out, filled with almost impossibly clean water that he swirled around and watched with fascination.</p><p>“If you must know,” he said to them, “I’ve done my homework on this village and this pond is referred to as the Sacred Well. It’s rumoured to possess healing properties.”</p><p>He took a cork from his pocket and sealed the test tube closed.</p><p>“Supposedly drinking it can close wounds, cure sicknesses, all sorts,” he explained, and withdrew another test tube from who knows where. “I’d like to run a test or two and see if there’s any hint of truth.”</p><p>He plunged that tube into the water as well and lifted it once it was full.</p><p>“That and I’m wondering what it’d do to my cherry tree,” he added.</p><p>It was then that Phoenix noticed the little porcelain bowl that sat beside him, cradling a tiny crimson-leaved tree on a bed of pale gravel.</p><p>“Oh my gosh, a bonsai tree!” Trucy cried joyfully. “I’ve never seen one in real life! Dad, look!” She pointed at it and hopped from foot to foot. “Look! It’s so pretty!”</p><p>“Don’t touch.” Dr Wallace moved it to his other side, out of Trucy’s line of sight.</p><p>Phoenix squeezed his daughter’s hand to chase away her disappointment.</p><p>“Let’s leave him, Truce,” he said. “We don’t want to bother the good doctor too much, do we?”</p><p>“I hope we can see him again,” Trucy said as they moved away, and she turned to wave at the white-coated man. “Bye, Dr Wallace! I love your tree!”</p><p>“Thanks,” Dr Wallace replied, his voice barely audible with his face turned away.</p><p>The cobbled road away from the Sacred Well and the police station carried Phoenix and Trucy under a stone bridge that seemed to be formed by nothing but the sheer effort of nature, its upper surface covered with a barely-visible layer of grass and its width wrapped in the trunks of a tree that was trying its hardest to grow.</p><p>The area beyond was a square surrounded by buildings, most of them terraced houses, with what appeared to be a grocery store sandwiched between them and a fountain taking pride of place in the centre of the cobbles. A young boy sat on the side of that fountain, painting pictures on the cobbles with nothing but the water and his finger, but he turned and ran away when he noticed Phoenix and Trucy.</p><p>Looking further up the slope, a grassy hill was visible, as was a house surrounded by greenhouses that, from this distance, looked very well-populated. The other direction showed that the street continued further down an incline and there, right in front of them, was a building boasting a sign emblazoned with a Celtic knot and the name of the business:</p><p>
  <em> The King’s Arms </em>
</p><p>“Whoa!” Trucy tugged on Phoenix’s sleeve. “Daddy, look up there!”</p><p>Phoenix followed her finger up the hill to their right and saw what seemed to be the only building in the village that had a tiled roof rather than thatch. By its side stood a woman, her blonde bun and grey overalls just barely visible as she chipped away at a massive block of ice. It seemed she was carving a tree. Oak? Maple? It was impossible to tell from here.</p><p>“Hi!” Trucy jumped and waved.</p><p>The woman didn’t so much as glance their way.</p><p>Following the cliff with their eyes, down the slope and across the natural bridge, they saw an even larger building standing atop a hill. A hall of some sort. The path up to it was more steps carved into the stone, although this time with railings of wood and rope to help anyone who tried to ascend.</p><p>“Trucy, let’s move,” said Phoenix, taking his daughter by the hand. “We already stand out enough, let’s just keep moving.”</p><p>He led her across the square to the <em> King’s Arms </em> and up the steps to the door, and he insisted on lifting her luggage up those steps rather than such a small girl trying to handle it herself.</p><p>Once they reached that door, Trucy noticed a gold and silver coin on the doorstep, and she picked it up and pocketed it despite her father warning her not to.</p><p>Perhaps they should have continued that debate a little longer, because as soon as they stepped into the tavern, they were met by a different, far more heated debate.</p><p>“I told you once, I told you a thousand times!” one of the customers yelled. “Put another song in that blasted machine for ONCE in your life!”</p><p>“Hey, it ain’t my fault you ain’t got any taste whatsoever!” a second customer replied. “That song is a goddamn classic!”</p><p>“It’s the only song you EVER put on!” the first customer bellowed. “Every single bloody time! It was okay the first couple of times ‘coz I had no idea how long the song was so I thought it was just going on a bit, but I’m fed up with What’s New bloody Pussycat!”</p><p>“What the heck did we just walk into?” Phoenix muttered to Trucy.</p><p>“I think they’re talking about music,” Trucy whispered to Phoenix.</p><p>“Yes, I get it!” the first customer went on. “You think it’s hilarious! But for the love of Christ, give it a break once in a while!”</p><p>“I’d love to see you try and make me,” the second man spat, “you stuck up piece of-”</p><p>“<em> Gentlemen</em>.”</p><p>All eyes in the room fell upon a plump woman who stood beside the bar, hazel eyes glinting with fury behind glasses that shone almost as pristinely as the blade of the spade she brandished in her hands.</p><p>“I’m not going to have to have Caitlin resolve this issue for you,” she said, “am I?”</p><p>The two customers could not possibly have flipped into regret any faster.</p><p>“…n-no…” the first stammered.</p><p>“We’re fine! We’re sorry!” the second spluttered.</p><p>The woman hoisted the spade onto her shoulder.</p><p>“Just let me choose the music and you’ll be fine, alright?” she said, and patted the jukebox that sat against the wall.</p><p>Phoenix was just wondering what he ought to say when she noticed them.</p><p>“Oh, hi!” She smiled as she rounded the bar. “Fresh faces! Been a while since we had any of those around here!”</p><p>Having thankfully been acknowledged, Phoenix led his daughter up to the bar, where she stood looking around at the snowdrop-shaped light fixtures on the wall and the stained-glass patterns in the windows.</p><p>“Don’t worry, we’ll stay fresh,” Phoenix told the woman now standing behind the bar. “We’re only here on vacation.”</p><p>“Wow, Americans!” The woman’s smile somehow grew even larger. “What brings you to our neck of the woods, eh? Can’t imagine what’d bring a bloke to the Cairngorms in the dead of winter.”</p><p>“It, uh…” Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck, perhaps hoping he could scratch out an excuse. “…it’s complicated. My name’s Phoenix Wright and this is my daughter, Trucy.”</p><p>“Hi!” Trucy stood on her toes to look over the bar. “Your tavern’s really pretty!”</p><p>“Well, aren’t you a little sweetheart?” The woman rested her spade on a shelf below the bar. “Nice to meet you, Phoenix Wright. Name’s Jacqueline Hill, but folks around here call me Jack. Welcome to the King’s Arms! Would you like something to drink?”</p><p>She was already reaching for a glass when Phoenix held up a hand for denial.</p><p>“It’s tempting,” he said, “but for now, we’d just like a room. Hopefully somewhere warm and tucked away. This is that sort of tavern, right?”</p><p>“I didn’t even know it was possible to get this cold!” Trucy rubbed her arms in spite of the grey turtleneck she’d donned under her dress.</p><p>Jack sighed and rolled her eyes.</p><p>“And it’ll only get colder once the sun goes down,” she said. “Sure, I’ve got some rooms free, but I’m afraid we don’t have any with twin beds. It’s a one-double-per-room situation in here.”</p><p>“That’s okay!” Trucy replied. “Daddy and I will stay warmer if we cuddle!”</p><p>“Ha!” Jack laughed. “She speaks the truth!”</p><p>She opened a drawer under the bar and pulled out a key.</p><p>“Here you are, Mr Wright.” She passed it into Phoenix’s hand. “Room 2, right upstairs. Toilet’s at the end of the hall, just beside the stairwell.”</p><p>Phoenix could have collapsed from relief.</p><p>“Thanks,” he sighed.</p><p>He turned on his heels and, while looking down at Trucy, nodded towards the stairs. She responded with a smile and snatched up her suitcase.</p><p>“Oh, one more thing!”</p><p>Before he could take a single step, he had to turn back to Jack again.</p><p>“Room 1 is marked Do Not Disturb for a reason,” she told him. “We’d all appreciate it if you could respect that and steer clear of the door. No looking through keyholes and the like.”</p><p>“Hm?” Phoenix tried not to frown at this odd request. “Why’s that?”</p><p>The world flashed.</p><p>For the briefest of moments, every colour in Phoenix’s vision inverted. Red became green, brown became blue, the pale grey of the sky was almost black.</p><p>And then it happened. Jack’s body became wrapped in chains, held closed by three large and vivid red locks that Phoenix knew only he could see.</p><p>“…huh?” he breathed.</p><p>“What is it, Dad?” Trucy’s tugging on his sleeve almost didn’t feel real.</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t tear his eyes away.</p><p>“…psych…” he muttered.</p><p>“Is something wrong?” asked Jack, who couldn’t see any of the locks and chains surrounding her. “Trust me, that room’s private and I’d prefer if people didn’t go barging in there.”</p><p>Phoenix cleared his throat.</p><p>“…I understand,” he managed to say. “Thank you, Ms Hill.”</p><p>“Race you to the stairs, Dad!”</p><p>His daughter’s challenge finally dragged him back to the real world just in time to see her running to the steps to the upper floor.</p><p>“Hey, no fair!” he complained. “You’ve got a head start!”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Just as Jack Hill had promised, Room 1 had a large DO NOT DISTURB sign pinned to its door.</p><p>It sure was tempting to peer through that keyhole, but Phoenix tried to put it out of his mind and unlocked the door next to it.</p><p>“Come on, come on!” Trucy urged as he turned the key.</p><p>He understood where she was coming from. He hadn’t realised until now just how incredibly sore his eyes or his feet were.</p><p>Trucy had leapt into the room before he had even finished opening the door, dropping her suitcase and throwing herself onto the bed with a cry of “FINALLY!”</p><p>Phoenix pulled her luggage into the room and positioned it beside the door. It was a rather cosy little room, he considered as he closed the door. A chair and a desk in case someone needed it, a very nice-looking wardrobe, white bedsheets that Trucy seemed to be doing her best to be absorbed by and a radiator positioned under the window. Phoenix twisted its knob and felt its metal surface to check that yes, it was warming.</p><p>“Yeah, I agree with you there,” he said to his daughter as he kicked his shoes off. “I think I need a lie down too. This has been…”</p><p>He collapsed onto the bed next to her, marvelling at how much the soft mattress sank under his weight.</p><p>“…one <em> heck </em> of a day,” he finished.</p><p>He sighed as his complaining feet finally found time to recover, and only then did his shoulders begin to ache as well. Too much heavy lifting, he considered. He was going to regret this by tomorrow morning.</p><p>Beside him, Trucy flopped over onto her back and kicked off her boots, exposing her stockinged feet to air that was thankfully beginning to warm up. Phoenix glanced over at her and smiled at the sight of her top hat, abandoned on the bed next to her, having been knocked off by the force of her collapse.</p><p>He turned back to staring at the ceiling. Like downstairs, the light fixture was shaped like snowdrop flowers.</p><p>It was going to be hard not to fall asleep right here and now.</p><p>“I don’t think I could’ve seen any of this coming,” he remarked. “Did you?”</p><p>“Mm-mm.” He couldn’t see her face, but he knew that Trucy was shaking her head.</p><p>Phoenix blew out another breath, relieved that it wasn’t condensing above his face.</p><p>“I was sure we’d be on our way to Loch Ness by now,” he said, and tried to look at his daughter over the crest of Mt Mattress. “Why did you make us follow the Professor? All you could talk about on the plane ride over was how excited you were to see the haunted castles, the London Eye and <em> especially </em> the Loch Ness Monster.”</p><p>Trucy didn’t say a word.</p><p>“Are you awake?”</p><p>“Mm-hm.”</p><p>Oh, it was like that, was it?</p><p>“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>“Nope!” Trucy replied.</p><p>“Thought not,” said Phoenix.</p><p>“Maybe I will,” said Trucy, “if you explain to me why you never told me you’ve got friends in Britain!”</p><p>“Oh, what’s this now?” Again Phoenix tried fruitlessly to look in her direction. “Are you sure <em> you’re </em> not the one blackmailing the Professor? You’re definitely happy to blackmail your own father!”</p><p>Trucy only giggled in response, leaving Phoenix with no choice but to laugh along with her.</p><p>“You act so cute and peppy with everybody you meet,” he said to her, “but on the inside, you’re a savage little monster, aren’t you?”</p><p>Her giggling took on a noticeably eviller edge. She sounded like the world’s most adorable supervillain.</p><p>Phoenix turned back to the ceiling with a smile.</p><p>“Still,” he said, “I can’t deny this is an interesting change of pace. In my experience, mysterious lake monsters never turn out to be legit. I’ve told you about Gourdy, haven’t I? And what <em> that </em> turned out to be?”</p><p>“Yeah, you did!” Trucy laughed. “And I still can’t believe Uncle Larry never told anybody!”</p><p>“Well, he did,” Phoenix pointed out. “Eventually.”</p><p>He pressed himself up onto his elbows, struggling as the mattress sank even more under his weight.</p><p>“Speaking of telling…” he started.</p><p>Trucy sat up to look at him properly.</p><p>“You don’t want the Professor to know?” she asked.</p><p>“If you want me to be honest, Truce,” Phoenix said, “I didn’t even want to be here.”</p><p>He pointed his most accusing finger right at her face.</p><p>“This is on you, alright?”</p><p>“I know!”</p><p>“…and you don’t regret it at all, do you?”</p><p>“Nope! You’ll see what I’m doing, Daddy, but for now, I am <em> not </em>going to reveal my secret!”</p><p>God, her cheeriness was the most contagious thing on the planet. Phoenix couldn’t help but smile at how proud she was.</p><p>“Of course you aren’t,” he said. “What kind of magician would you be if you did?”</p><p>Despite how heavy and sore he felt, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and fumbled his shoes back onto his toes.</p><p>“I hate to say it,” he said, “but we can’t just lie around for the rest of the afternoon.” He leaned down and tugged his shoes the rest of the way onto his feet. “We should ask around town for information while the sun’s still up. I don’t even want to know how cold it’ll be when it gets dark.”</p><p>“Noooooo!” Trucy seized her hat and slapped it over her face.</p><p>“Come on,” Phoenix prompted as he dragged himself to his feet.</p><p>“Five more minutes!” Trucy rolled onto her side and curled up, still clutching her hat over her face.</p><p>Phoenix switched the radiator off and turned to the door.</p><p>“I’ll drag you out of here if I have to,” he warned, “but I am <em> not </em> going to leave you in an unfamiliar place all by yourself.”</p><p>He opened the door, making sure he had the key safely tucked away in his jeans pocket.</p><p>“I’ll make sure we get a good-sized dinner afterwards, okay?” he offered.</p><p>“Please not haggis.” Trucy lifted her hat to glare at him. “I’ve heard about haggis and it sounds gross.”</p><p>“It’ll be haggis if you don’t get up off that bed and come with me.”</p><p>“Coming!”</p><p>Trucy burst off the bed and started fumbling with her boots, and Phoenix couldn’t avoid laughing at the sight.</p><p>“Atta-girl, Trucy-Goosy,” he chuckled, and caught her by the shoulder as she threatened to topple over. “Let’s try some of the people downstairs first.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The Professor tipped his hat down to avoid hitting it on the top of the door frame as he and Luke stepped through the door and into the library.</p><p>“Wow,” Luke sighed, and he opened the top toggle on his coat. “It’s so warm in here!”</p><p>A roaring fireplace in the wall near the door was bordered by a stone hearth and surrounded by cushions, bean bags and a fluffy, cosy-looking rug. The flickering flames did little to illuminate the bookshelves that stretched away from this open area, and nothing to light up the stairway that stood around the corner. Everything else was lit up by the pale light streaming through the windows, which were clouded with condensation on one side and frost on the other.</p><p>Luke looked up as Layton loosened his scarf.</p><p>“Normally I would be concerned about a library having a fireplace,” he said, “but given the nature of this town and its climate, I can’t quite say it’s unwelcome.”</p><p>He looked around the room, at the snowdrop-shaped light fixtures and the bookshelves stocked floor to ceiling.</p><p>“This is certainly a very cosy little building,” he commented.</p><p>“Who’s there?”</p><p>The voice came from within the shelves and was soon followed by its apparent owner. A tall, olive-skinned man who was either wearing many, <em> many </em> layers of light grey shirts or was packed all over with solidly built muscle. He tossed one end of his pink scarf over his shoulder as he approached and reached up to straighten his glasses.</p><p>Luke took a deep breath and forced himself not to shrink behind the Professor at the sight of this giant and the huge book he held open in one hand.</p><p>“Ah, pardon me, my good man.” Layton spoke politely and adjusted his hat to look up at this stranger’s face. “My apprentice and I are in the midst of an investigation. I wonder if you could provide us with some newspapers from within the past month or two?”</p><p>Seconds ticked by as 6’5” of bespectacled muscle peered down at them.</p><p>“Hmm,” he said after what felt like forever. “Fresh faces.”</p><p>He would have snapped his book closed, but given its size, it was more of a resounding <em> boom</em>.</p><p>“Been a while since Fatargan had any visitors,” he commented, and slipped the book onto a shelf that only he could reach. “I’d be happy to track down some newspapers for you, only…”</p><p>“What?” Luke tried his hardest not to cower. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>The tall man folded his arms, and it became clear that no, those were <em> not </em> just layers of fabric. Those biceps were almost wider than his head.</p><p>“You two look like you’ve got some brains under those hats of yours,” he said. “How about this? Show me you aren’t just a pair of pretty faces and I’ll give you everything you need.”</p><p>The Professor adjusted the brim of his hat and eyed this huge man with determination.</p><p>“Whatever your challenge may be,” he said proudly, “I’m certain I’m up to it.”</p><p>The tall man pushed up his glasses with a smirk.</p><p>“We’ll see,” he replied. “Can you tell me what makes the number 8,549,176,320 unique in comparison to every other number that could ever exist?”</p><p>Layton barely even took a second to think.</p><p>“But of course,” he said, and raised a finger in full Professor mode. “Every individual digit from zero to nine is listed in alphabetical order.”</p><p>Their new friend smiled with questionable sincerity.</p><p>“Not bad, mate,” he said, “but can you tell me how it would be possible for you to take your car to a hotel and immediately be declared bankrupt?”</p><p>“Hmm…” Again, Layton didn’t need to give it a great deal of consideration. “It’s quite simple. If one were to play a game of Monopoly, that is definitely one of the risks.”</p><p>“Got it again,” the tall man replied. “Okay, last question…”</p><p>He drew himself up to the fullest of his height and Luke straightened up with a gulp.</p><p>“What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?”</p><p>Huh?</p><p>Wait, <em> what? </em></p><p>Luke frowned. Surely there was only one answer that made sense, wasn’t there? But there was no way the Professor would be able to figure it out…</p><p>“I must confess,” Layton said thoughtfully, “I’m not all that familiar with ornithology…”</p><p>Luke stepped forward and glared up at this man with every drop of determination he could muster.</p><p>“What do you mean, sir?” he asked. “An African or European swallow?”</p><p>The man’s jaw dropped in astonishment.</p><p>“I-I don’t know that!” he stammered.</p><p>And then Luke joined him in a scream of mock terror.</p><p>“Have I missed something?” Layton asked as the two others with him broke down into laughter.</p><p>The tall man straightened up, beaming from ear to ear.</p><p>“You two are fantastic!” he said happily. “Name’s Henry Edwards. I’m the librarian here and seeing as my cousin runs the King’s Arms, I know pretty much everything there is to know about this town.” He pointed at his massive pecs with his thumb. “Come to me if you have any questions, alright?”</p><p>Layton smiled in relief.</p><p>“Thank you, Mr Edwards,” he replied. “My name is Professor Hershel Layton and this is my apprentice, Luke Triton. I wonder if you could please direct us to the newspaper archive? We’re in the midst of an investigation, you see, and any information we could gather would prove invaluable.”</p><p>“From the past two months, was it?” Henry turned and jogged down the aisle to a filing cabinet. “Give me a minute or two and I’ll have those brought out.”</p><p>He opened one of the drawers and started pulling papers out.</p><p>“It’s going to be a cold night,” he called over his shoulder, “so I recommend taking ‘em back with you rather than reading ‘em here.”</p><p>“Why’s that?” Luke leaned past the Professor to see what was going on.</p><p>“Trust me, kid,” the librarian responded. “You don’t want to be out at night in a place like this.”</p><p>Layton adjusted his scarf again.</p><p>“Well, that’s understandable,” he said. “I expect it gets awfully chilly this far above sea level.”</p><p>Henry paused in his stacking of papers.</p><p>“Yes,” he said. “The cold.”</p><p>He went back to pulling the papers out. His stack was becoming rather tall.</p><p>“That’s right, you’ll want to stay out of the cold,” he continued. “<em> Horrible </em> cold, too. You’ll freeze your bits off.”</p><p>He squeezed his fingers under the tower of papers he had built and eased himself to his feet.</p><p>“Here we are,” he said, and walked back to where the two Englishmen were waiting. “This lot dates back to November last year. Is that enough?”</p><p>“That’s plenty, my good man,” the Professor replied, and Luke accepted the stack into his hands. “Thank you very much.”</p><p>Luke pressed his chin onto the tower to prevent it from falling over and turned towards the door.</p><p>“Oh,” said Layton, “one more thing.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Henry said as the Professor dug around in his pocket. “What can I help you with?”</p><p>From his pocket, Layton produced the dossier from the envelope of information he carried and held it up for the librarian to see.</p><p>“Have you seen this man, by any chance?” he asked.</p><p>Henry leaned forward. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the photograph.</p><p>“Hrrrm…” He rubbed his head, knocking his hat askew, and Luke suddenly noticed that his head was shiny and bald. “…I want to say yes, but I can’t quite place him… god, I <em> swear </em> I’ve seen that face before…”</p><p>He straightened up, shaking his head.</p><p>“No,” he said. “No, I’m sorry. The bloke looks familiar, but I can’t quite figure out where I’ve seen him before. Sorry.”</p><p>Layton lowered the photo with a patient smile.</p><p>“That’s quite alright, my good man,” he responded. “You’ve already been a tremendous help.”</p><p>“We’d better return to the cottage, Professor!” Luke strained to keep the desperation out of his voice. “These papers are heavier than they look!”</p><p>He staggered to the library’s door and regretted opening his coat at the top as the Professor held the door for him and a chilling breeze washed over his body. If he allowed himself the violent shiver he desperately wanted, he would have spilled these papers everywhere.</p><p>He pressed down harder with his chin as he stepped down onto the cobbled road. To lose them all at this point would be disastrous.</p><p>“’Scuse me.”</p><p>The voice came from below. Luke had to lean to his side to see where it had come from.</p><p>It was a small boy, no older than seven or eight years old, standing surrounded by sticks and rocks. His brown hair was a mess of tangles and pine needles and his face was smeared with dirt. He stared up at Luke with eyes that were wide and a dull, steely grey.</p><p>“Hmm?” Luke said politely. “What is it?”</p><p>The boy reached down and picked up one of the rocks that sat next to his feet. When he held it up, Luke noticed it had a hole bored through it.</p><p>“Take this,” the little boy said.</p><p>A true gentleman didn’t stare, Luke reminded himself, but he found himself staring nonetheless. Staring at this strange little boy through the hole in the stone he was presenting the teen with.</p><p>“A rock?” Luke tried to behave friendly and casual. “Why do you want me to take your rock?”</p><p>“You’ll need it to see,” said the boy.</p><p>Luke gave the boy a puzzled frown as the Professor stepped up next to him.</p><p>“It’s only a stone, Luke,” Layton pointed out. “There wouldn’t be any harm in indulging this young man’s fancy, would there?”</p><p>The apprentice tried to nod in spite of the papers pressed against his chin.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said to the boy, “but…”</p><p>He gestured with the stack he cradled in his fingers.</p><p>“…but my hands are a bit full right now,” he pointed out.</p><p>“You’ll need it to see,” the boy insisted.</p><p>“Okay!” cried Luke. “Okay, well… um…”</p><p>He leaned around, aiming his side at the strange little boy.</p><p>“Here,” he said. “Put it in my pocket.”</p><p>The boy obediently stepped forward and slipped the hole-stone into Luke’s coat pocket.</p><p>“Don’t forget it,” he said once that was done. “You’ll need it to see.”</p><p>“How can I use it to help me see?” Luke couldn’t avoid asking.</p><p>“Look through it,” the little boy told him. “You’ll see what’s really there.”</p><p>And then he just stared. Luke could swear he felt the child’s dull grey eyes boring into his soul.</p><p>“…Professor,” he said nervously, “let’s go back to our cottage now.”</p><p>“Indeed.” Either the Professor hadn’t noticed how strange this boy was or he was better at ignoring that strangeness than Luke could ever be. “I’m about ready for a hot cup of tea.”</p><p>“Yes, tea!” Luke walked towards the nearby bridge as fast as he dared. “Let’s go and have some tea!”</p><p>He didn’t look back as they crossed the gorge, but he could swear he still felt the boy’s eyes on him, and even the thought of it – and what this stone in his pocket could apparently do – sent a shiver of uncertainty down his spine.</p><p>Not only that, but it now felt as though other eyes had joined him. Inquisitive eyes. Untrusting eyes. Accusatory eyes.</p><p>The sunlight had already become golden and milky. The shadows were growing longer with every passing second.</p><p>Luke could not <em> wait </em> to get inside.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Fatargan’s medical clinic was small, but its living quarters were well-stocked enough that a single person could be quite comfortable calling it their home.</p><p>Dr Bill Wallace stretched his arms and leaned back in his chair. If he spent any longer looking through his microscope, the dark circles around his eyes were going to get even darker.</p><p>Ah well. Not like there was anything special about this water anyway. Just the sort of algae and microbial life you would expect from any other normal pond.</p><p>Healing powers indeed…</p><p>He took the test tube he’d used to capture this sample and upended it into the pot he’d positioned on the windowsill.</p><p>Such a lovely little plant, he considered, and he ran his fingers over its deep red leaves. He’d only had a handful of patients today, yet all three of them had told him how pretty his little bonsai was and marvelled at a tree still having leaves at this time of year.</p><p>Hmm?</p><p>What was that?</p><p>Was that… music?</p><p>Dr Wallace opened the window, ignoring the freezing cold that washed into the room, and leaned on the sill beside his tree.</p><p>It <em> was </em> music. Somebody, somewhere in this town, was playing a violin. The echo made it impossible to tell where it was coming from. It radiated all around the town, carried on the breeze and piercing through his ears.</p><p>Still, it was a rather lovely tune, if a little mournful.</p><p>The doctor took a deep breath. The night air smelled of soil, smoke from the chimneys that almost every building in this village carried, and the sharp metallic tang of snow that would no doubt be falling soon.</p><p>It was a beautiful night.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Dad, do you hear that?”</p><p>“Noooooo… five more minutes…”</p><p>“Dad, listen! Can’t you hear that? That music?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Phoenix dredged himself back from the depths of sleep and looked through the darkness at his daughter, who was standing beside their room’s window.</p><p>It was then, while looking at her adorably confused face, that he heard the thing that was making her so confused.</p><p>“What the…” he muttered, and somehow managed to sit up on a mattress that was trying its hardest to swallow him. “Is that a violin? Who’s practising their violin at this time of night?”</p><p>“Hang on,” said Trucy, and she reached for the window’s latch.</p><p>“Trucy, don’t open the-” Phoenix didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before she pushed the window open and a bone-chilling breeze swept into the room. “Oh jeez, that’s cold…” He pulled the quilt up around his shoulders.</p><p>“But Dad, it’s outside!” Trucy pointed out into the late-night air. “The music’s coming from outside! Can’t you hear it?”</p><p>Phoenix tried to ignore the cold and concentrate on the music.</p><p>Yes, it was definitely a violin. He’d know that kind of ringing anywhere. Definitely a good quality instrument judging by how clear and resonating the sound was, and how loud it was in spite of…</p><p>…no, wait, where was it coming from? The way it echoed made it difficult to tell.</p><p>Gritting his teeth, Phoenix pushed the sheets back and joined Trucy beside the window, looking up into the air to try to hear the music better.</p><p>It wasn’t just the sound itself, but the melody being played seemed familiar somehow.</p><p>“That’s…” He strained his ears as if that would somehow help. “Agh, I <em> swear </em>I’ve heard that song before.”</p><p>He snapped his fingers over and over, perhaps hoping it would somehow kick his brain into gear.</p><p>“I think it’s from a TV show?” he thought out loud. “Maybe a movie?”</p><p>“It might be from a video game,” Trucy suggested, “but which one?”</p><p>“The more important question is where…” Phoenix leaned out the window and looked around, but the streets were empty and silent, except for... “Where is that coming from?”</p><p>“Listen! It’s echoing!” Trucy jumped up and hung out the window beside him. “It could be coming from anywhere!”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” said Phoenix, trying to avoid paying attention to what was in the street, “you’d know all about acoustics, wouldn’t you?”</p><p>Trucy nodded proudly before turning back to the freezing night.</p><p>“It sounds like it’s coming from…” She held up a finger to point but hesitated before she could choose a direction. “…no, maybe… over there?” She pointed at the top of the town’s bell tower. “Or up there?”</p><p>She leaned out further to point, but lost her balance and fell into her father’s waiting hand. Phoenix pulled her back into their room and lowered her to the floor.</p><p>“Trucy, stay here,” he said, and stepped into the shoes he had abandoned. “I’m going to go and ask Ms Hill if she knows anything about this. And close that window!” He pointed at it as he opened their door. “I’m not having you catching a cold while we’re on vacation!”</p><p>He stepped out into the hallway, tried his hardest to keep quiet as he found his way to the stairs, and welcomed the warm golden glow of the lights as he descended to the now-silent bar. The innkeeper was the only one still there, counting the day’s takings from the till.</p><p>“Excuse me, uh…” Phoenix cleared his throat. “Ms Hill?”</p><p>“Jack, please,” she replied, and positioned a stack of coins on top of the bar. “Evening, Mr Wright. I hope you’re keeping nice and warm tonight.”</p><p>“We are, but…” Phoenix sheepishly ran a hand through his mess of hair as he approached her bar. “But you can hear that, can’t you? That music?” He pointed at the building’s front door. “Someone’s playing a violin!”</p><p>Sure enough, the music was still going. It seemed the player had decided to switch to a different song.</p><p>“Yes, I can hear it,” Jack replied with a smile. “That’s the Minstrel for you. He plays beautifully, doesn’t he?”</p><p>She pulled a handful of notes out of her till and flicked through to count.</p><p>Phoenix, on the other hand, had a question:</p><p>“Who’s the Minstrel?”</p><p>Jack looked back up at his face.</p><p>The world flashed again. Colours became inverse and her body was entwined with chains, but this time, she was surrounded by no less than <em> five </em> heavy locks of brilliant red.</p><p>And once again, she didn’t notice them at all.</p><p>“I’m afraid it’s not my place to say,” she said. “Why not go back to bed? The music is quite soothing once you’re used to it.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“Please don’t ask any more questions, Mr Wright.”</p><p>Phoenix’s eyes flickered down to her hand, which was slowly moving under the bar.</p><p>That was where she kept that spade, wasn’t it?</p><p>He took a step back.</p><p>“Okay,” he said, holding up his hands to convey that he meant no harm. “Okay, fine.”</p><p>He turned on his heels and jogged back up the stairs, no longer caring how much noise he made, and could not have been more eager to get back inside his room.</p><p>“She refuses to talk,” he told his companion.</p><p>“Huh?” Trucy stared in confusion from within the mountains of pillows. “Why’s that?”</p><p>“I wish I knew,” Phoenix replied as he gratefully climbed back under the sheets beside her.</p><p>He settled down and tried to make himself comfortable, but Trucy was still frowning.</p><p>“Wait a minute,” she said. “Earlier, when we spoke to her the first time, you got all scared and then you said ‘psych’. It was quiet, but I heard it!”</p><p>Phoenix felt a pang of regret.</p><p>“…you did, did you?” he asked.</p><p>“Did…” Trucy leaned in closer so that only he could hear her whisper. “…did Ms Hill have Psyche-Locks?”</p><p>He looked back over his shoulder and checked that yes, the door was closed.</p><p>“She still does,” he replied, speaking as quietly as he could. “Earlier it was three, but when I asked her about the music, she just said it was ‘the Minstrel’. I could practically hear the capital letter when she said it. I tried pressing further and she gained two more.”</p><p>“Five Psyche-Locks?!” Trucy exclaimed under her breath. “But she’s such a nice lady!”</p><p>“She is, isn’t she?” said Phoenix.</p><p>When he looked back over at the door, he could have sworn he saw a shadow moving in the crack underneath it.</p><p>He nestled into his pillow and tried to make himself comfortable.</p><p>“Maybe she’ll be willing to talk tomorrow morning,” he suggested, and had to wait until his latest yawn had passed before he finished talking. “Until then, let’s try to get some sleep. Goodnight, Trucy-Goosy. Love you.”</p><p>Trucy settled down beside him with a smile.</p><p>“I love you too, Dad,” she replied.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Something clicked in Layton’s shoulder as he stretched his arms.</p><p>“It seems nothing was mentioned about this case during last December,” he reported, casting his eyes across the newspapers scattered all over the table. “How about you, Luke? Any luck?”</p><p>“Nope,” Luke replied.</p><p>He tried and failed to push back a yawn that forced its way out through his throat.</p><p>“It doesn’t make any sense,” he said, and reached for his teacup before remembering that it was long since empty. “This is a very important person! How could nobody have reported his disappearance?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” said Layton, looking over some of the headlines spread out between them. “I understand that this village is rather isolated, but you’d think that at least one journalist would have noticed such a prominent figure vanishing into thin air.”</p><p>Luke looked over the titles that covered the table almost corner to corner. <em> The Herald, The Scotsman, Evening Express, The Times, The Daily Telegraph, The Guardian, The Sun, The Daily Mirror, Aberdeen Citizen </em>… not a single one of them was native to Fatargan.</p><p>Not that it was surprising. This wasn’t a very large town, after all. No doubt they didn’t even have their own paper.</p><p>Then again, surely at least one of these should have mentioned such a prominent figure disappearing, shouldn’t they?</p><p>“Do you think…” Luke almost didn’t want to say what was on his mind. “…do you think we could be dealing with a cover-up?”</p><p>Layton adjusted his hat by its brim. He almost seemed sick at the thought.</p><p>“I hate to admit it,” he said, “but it’s possible. Either way, we should tread carefully. You noticed how the people of this village were watching us as we were walking around, didn’t you?”</p><p>Luke shuddered at the memory.</p><p>“I felt like I needed to call Mr Wright back,” he replied. “I felt like I was being put on trial! Do you have any idea what they might have against us, Professor?”</p><p>The Professor didn’t reply.</p><p>He looked to his left, in the direction of the kitchen window, and froze in utter silence.</p><p>“Professor?” Luke tried again.</p><p>“Ssh!” Layton held up a finger in his direction, requesting the quiet to continue. “Luke, do you hear that?” he hissed.</p><p>“Hear what?” Luke whispered back.</p><p>“That’s…” Layton jumped up from his chair, almost knocking it over in his haste. “It’s music.”</p><p>Luke leapt to join him at the window as he opened it and shivered at the cold breeze that swept into the room.</p><p>But then he heard it.</p><p>The distant echo of a violin.</p><p>“Yes, it’s music!” said the baffled Professor. “Who could be playing a violin at this hour?”</p><p>“More to the point, <em> why </em> at this hour?” asked Luke.</p><p>He looked around the empty, enclosed little neighbourhood where this cottage was situated and couldn’t see a thing. Even when he peered down the bridge that led to the rest of the town, he couldn’t make out any people at all.</p><p>Nothing to see…</p><p>…hmm…</p><p>Luke ran to where his coat was hung on a hook beside the door and reached into its pocket.</p><p>“What is it, my boy?” asked Layton.</p><p>Once he had hooked the stone over his finger, Luke hurried back to the window.</p><p>“That kid earlier,” he recounted, turning the stone over in his hands, “he told me I should look through this…”</p><p>You’ll need it to see, that boy had told him. You’ll see what’s really there.</p><p>But Luke was holding onto the stone and nothing had changed. Nothing he could see was any different to what he had been able to see before he’d held it. He tried pressing his finger into the hole, but no, that didn’t change anything either.</p><p>To see…</p><p>Was it that simple? Or was there some other thing he needed to do?</p><p>Luke took a deep breath and raised the stone to his eye.</p><p>“AH!”</p><p>He almost collapsed in shock.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” asked Layton.</p><p>“Th-t-the…” Luke pointed a shaking finger at the small plaza outside the window. “…there are…”</p><p>He grabbed the sink to steady himself and leaned forward for a better look.</p><p>“…are those <em> people?! </em>”</p><p>They had flooded the area, milling between houses and across the roads, swarming all the way up the bridge into the town and, looking carefully, there were just as many crowded there as there were over here, if not more. They wandered aimlessly, their heads downturned, feet shuffling and stumbling on the solid ground, but none of them looked in each other’s direction.</p><p>Nor did they look in Luke’s direction, not that he minded.</p><p>He lowered the stone and they vanished, but when he brought it back up, there they were again. They were only visible when he looked through the hole in the stone.</p><p>And when he looked a little closer, he noticed…</p><p>…oh god…</p><p>…he could see <em> through </em> them. He could see a lamppost through the body of one that was standing in front of it.</p><p>“Luke, are you alright?” asked Layton. “What people are you talking about?”</p><p>“The ones walking around out there!” Luke pointed again. “Can’t you see them?! They’re everywhere! They’re wandering all over the place!”</p><p>He moved the stone away from his face to look at it again. There really wasn’t anything special about it. It was worn smooth, perhaps granite – the hole wasn’t very large and looked to have been formed by water – so how was it doing this?</p><p>He looked up at the Professor.</p><p>“You really can’t see them?” he asked, and he raised the stone for another look.</p><p>“I think I know what you might be referring to, my boy,” Layton said as Luke watched the shifting figures. “Are you familiar with the term ‘pareidolia’?”</p><p>Luke lowered the stone again. He had a feeling that using it for too long might not be very beneficial to his health.</p><p>“I don’t think I am,” he replied. “It might be something I’ve heard of but don’t know the name of, um…”</p><p>“I have no doubt about that,” the Professor said happily, and Luke could swear he heard the man switching into ramble mode. “You see, Luke, pareidolia is a psychological phenomenon deriving from the human mind’s tendency to apply patterns to the things we see.” He held up a finger, just like a teacher would. “Specifically, the term is a descriptor for when we see human characteristics in non-human stimuli.”</p><p>He turned to look out the window, still smiling at this opportunity to be informative.</p><p>“A good example of this is when you see a shape in a cloud,” he continued. “You may know that what you’re seeing isn’t actually, say, a camel, but to a mind searching for something recognisable, it <em> looks </em> like a camel.”</p><p>Luke turned the stone over and over in his fingers.</p><p>“I think I understand,” he said. “So what you’re saying is that my brain is just interpreting something out there as looking like a crowd of people?”</p><p>“It’s quite possible,” Layton assured him, and he pointed out the window and up at trees that lined a ridge above them. “Look at how the trees up there are moving in the breeze. You can see how the moon is shining behind them, can’t you?”</p><p>When Luke followed his finger, he saw how the trees’ branches were waving in a light wind that brushed against his cheek. The faint rustle was a haunting compliment to the distant violin.</p><p>“I can’t blame you for seeing shapes in the shadows, Luke,” said Layton. “The way they’re flickering could easily be mistaken for something more human.”</p><p>His point turned to the ground outside and the shifting shadows the trees were casting.</p><p>“That makes sense,” Luke sighed, “but I’m not sure if that could apply here.”</p><p>He held up the stone for the Professor to see.</p><p>“I can only see the people out there when I look through this stone!” he pointed out.</p><p>Layton took the stone from his fingers and looked it over. Luke could swear he heard the man’s mind ticking, grinding and clicking as he thought.</p><p>“The boy outside the library suggested that it would allow you to see something, didn’t he?” the Professor offered. “Perhaps your mind is simply filling in what you expect to see as a result of what he told you.”</p><p>“Then…” Luke tapped his foot impatiently. “…then how about you take a look?”</p><p>The Professor smiled and raised the stone to his eye, and then he turned to look outside.</p><p>He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to.</p><p>Luke could see the smile slip away, although it was nothing compared to how rapidly the colour drained from his face.</p><p>What could he see out there?</p><p>Was it the same thing that Luke had seen?</p><p>“Professor?” Luke said nervously.</p><p>Layton lowered the stone in silence.</p><p>“I, erm…”</p><p>The stone slipped from his fingers and clattered into the sink.</p><p>“I think we should close this window for tonight,” he said. “We don’t want to make the house too cold, after all.”</p><p>“Professor, what did you see?” Luke asked as the window was pulled shut and locked.</p><p>“It’s quite late, Luke.” Layton made a half-hearted effort at tidying up the papers. “We’ve had a long day. I should think we’ll be able to concentrate more on our investigation once we’ve had a good night’s sleep.”</p><p>He gave up on moving the papers around.</p><p>“I wouldn’t bother tidying these up,” he decided. “We’ll only have to get them out again.”</p><p>“Professor?” Luke almost wanted to run forward and catch him. “What about the music?!”</p><p>“Goodnight, Luke.” Layton walked across the cottage’s small hallway and stepped through his bedroom door. “Sleep well.”</p><p>He closed the door.</p><p>Luke sighed, trying not to look out the window again, and fished the stone out of the empty sink.</p><p>Hopefully he would be able to pull some more details out of his mentor after they'd both had a good night’s sleep.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t real.”</p><p>Layton sat up in his bed, arms wrapped around his knees, his beloved hat rested on a nearby bed knob.</p><p>“It wasn’t real,” he muttered.</p><p>But he had seen it, just as Luke had said he would.</p><p>He had seen the people out there.</p><p>No. No, it wasn’t possible.</p><p>“My eyes were playing tricks on me,” he told himself.</p><p>But one of them had turned to look at him, her skin an empty shade of grey, her eyes nothing but holes. Dark voids of nothingness, yet still he had felt as though she was staring directly at his face.</p><p>“It wasn’t there.”</p><p>But her head had tipped back and her mouth had fallen open, almost as though she was screaming into the night.</p><p>“It wasn’t real.”</p><p>Her jaw slack, her mouth a gaping black maw, unhinged to an unnatural degree as she continued staring right at him.</p><p>Her fingers worn and dirty, her feet bare and blackened by frostbite, her ragged clothes torn and drenched in something dripping and dark…</p><p>“It <em> wasn’t real</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Frozen Court part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Utterly disgraceful, I’m telling you!”</p><p>When he heard that statement, Phoenix froze on the stairs. He peered around the bend in the stairway and looked down into the tavern.</p><p>“And to think he hasn’t even been here for an entire day!”</p><p>The cosy room he remembered from yesterday was now stuffed with as many people as it could fit between its walls and tables, all chattering and clamouring and struggling to be heard over each other. He stepped down slowly, cautiously, and hoped that nobody would notice him.</p><p>“You’d expect better from somebody who claims to have <em> his </em> experience, wouldn’t you?”</p><p>“Yes, but you know those doctors and their handwriting, don’t you?” For the first time, Phoenix noticed the innkeeper standing just beside the stairs, the handle of her spade just visible over her shoulder. “Never trust a man whose handwriting you can’t read, that’s what I say.”</p><p>Phoenix gulped. Hopefully she would never get to see <em> his </em> handwriting.</p><p>He stepped off the final stair and drew up beside Jack, who he now noticed was clutching her spade as tightly against her chest as she could. No wonder, given the ridiculously noisy throng now plaguing her tavern.</p><p>“Uh…” Jeez, where did you even <em> start </em> with something like this? “Ms Hill?”</p><p>“Ah!” Jack jumped when she noticed him. “Good morning, Mr Wright. Sorry about all this.”</p><p>“All this?” Phoenix said, hoping he didn’t sound too dumbfounded. “What exactly is ‘all this’?”</p><p>“I’d say it’s just some gossip,” Jack replied, “but given that one of our own got <em> horribly </em>sick, I’m afraid I can’t say it’s as simple as that.”</p><p>“Sick?” said Phoenix. “What happened?”</p><p>“That newfangled doctor went and poisoned Wrenkley!” cried a nearby villager who had apparently been eavesdropping.</p><p>“Huh?” Phoenix suddenly felt a good deal more awake. “<em>Poisoned?! </em>”</p><p>“Here, you rode in on the same bus, didn’t you?” Another villager pointed an accusing finger in Phoenix’s face. “What the bloody hell did that doctor say to you, eh?!”</p><p>“He didn’t say anything!” Phoenix took a reflexive step back. “I- hang on, I’ll be right back.”</p><p>He turned on his heel and ran back up the stairs, past the door still labelled DO NOT DISTURB and into the room he shared with his still-supine daughter.</p><p>After a glance back over his shoulder to check he wasn’t followed, he knelt beside the bed and shook her shoulder.</p><p>“Trucy, get up,” he said sharply.</p><p>“Huh?” Trucy groaned and blinked as she was dragged into consciousness. “What’s happening?”</p><p>Phoenix glanced back again.</p><p>“I think Dr Wallace is being accused of malpractice,” he told her.</p><p>“What?!” Trucy threw back her bedsheets, having slept fully clothed to protect herself from the cold, and snatched up the boots she had left beside the bed.</p><p>“I didn’t hear much,” Phoenix told her, “but the customers down in the tavern are saying he poisoned one of the citizens.”</p><p>He passed her the cloak and hat she had left on their nightstand.</p><p>“Come with me,” he said as she put them on. “I have a feeling I might be able to get more reliable information if these people have to be nice to a little kid.”</p><p>“Does ten years old actually count as little though?” Trucy asked as she hopped off the bed.</p><p>“For now, if anyone asks, you’re seven,” Phoenix said. “Okay?”</p><p>“Uh, okay…”</p><p>She took his hand and allowed herself to be led into the hallway and back to the stairs. He squeezed her fingers, reassured by her grip-</p><p>-and froze when he saw even <em> more </em> people somehow crammed into the tavern.</p><p>“Oh <em> no</em>.” Good lord, for such a young girl, she sounded amazingly resigned.</p><p>“That’s, uh…” Phoenix almost wanted to turn around and go back to bed. “That’s a lot of people.”</p><p>He considered going down, holding onto Trucy as tightly as he could so that they didn’t get separated.</p><p>But before he got a chance, Jack stepped up the stairs and held up her spade for the entire tavern to see.</p><p>“All of you quiet down!” she shouted. “Or Caitlin will MAKE you be quiet!”</p><p>To Phoenix’s relief – and evidently Jack’s as well – the clamour in the tavern quickly gossiped into silence.</p><p>“That’s better,” said Jack. “Listen, all of you. There’s a very easy way to determine if this new doctor really did screw up like Wrenkley says he did. All we have to do is go there and ask him.”</p><p>She brandished her spade at her audience.</p><p>“And don’t any of you start yelling! It’s still way too bloody early!”</p><p>The villagers started shifting in the exit’s direction, but none of them made to leave. Watching their movements, Phoenix couldn’t help but notice the lack of diversity in these people. Half seemed around Layton’s age, the rest noticeably older, and all of them as pale as the sunlight outside.</p><p>No wonder they had all looked at him so oddly. Not only younger than most of the village, but noticeably tanned? Even if he wasn’t American, he would stand out like a smartphone in an antique shop.</p><p>“Daddy?”</p><p>He looked back at Trucy and saw her nervously glancing between him and the crowd. So much for hoping these people would cool their heads if a kid was around…</p><p>“Yeah,” he replied. “I have a bad feeling too.”</p><p>Jack thumped her spade’s blade onto the step she stood upon. She looked like a pioneer setting out to discover new lands and bludgeon everything that dared look her way.</p><p>“Anybody I see trying to lay hands on anybody else is getting a faceful of Caitlin, alright?” Now it was her turn to point accusingly, but this time at the entire room she stood before. “And again, keep. Your voices. <em> Down</em>. Some people are still trying to sleep.”</p><p>She threw her spade into her other hand and pointed it at her front door.</p><p>“Now unless you’re all planning to buy something,” she told them all, “move out!”</p><p>Phoenix gulped. He had a feeling this could get ugly.</p><p>One by one, two by two and occasionally (and rather angrily) three by three, the villagers in the tavern filed out into what passed for a street outside. Phoenix stayed where he was, watching as what looked like half the village departed the tavern, and only descended the rest of the steps once Jack had left as well and there was enough room to breathe.</p><p>He hesitated, watching after them.</p><p>What now?</p><p>It was tempting to go back to bed and mind his own business. Surely, with a seemingly sensible woman like Jack there to direct them, the villagers wouldn’t do anything horrific to Dr Wallace, would they?</p><p>“Dad!”</p><p>It seemed he wouldn’t get a chance to make up his mind; Trucy was already pushing him towards the door.</p><p>“Dad, we should go with them!” she said. “Move!”</p><p>Well, there went that idea. He caught himself on the entranceway’s door frame to keep from being pushed over by a girl half his size.</p><p>“Good call,” he said, and hoped she didn’t pick up on his disappointment. “Dr Wallace seems like a bit of a jerk…”</p><p>He reached back and took her hand.</p><p>“…but we can’t just stand by and watch these people play judge, jury and executioner.”</p><p>He opened the door for Trucy to step out and allowed her to lead him out of the King’s Arms.</p><p>The crowd that had just departed were already some distance down the street, disappearing under the stone bridge that stood as a gateway to the Sacred Well. They hurried down the steps to follow, but Phoenix made sure to hold Trucy back. It wouldn’t be a good idea to get too close.</p><p>They were following Jack’s orders perfectly. The throng was trickling through the village in utter silence, save for the shuffling of feet and an occasional cough or sneeze that was immediately shushed. The sight was…</p><p>Phoenix gritted his teeth. It was unnerving. Somehow he would have felt more at home if they had been shouting, perhaps brandishing torches and gardening equipment shanghaied for combat. Yes, there was Jack and her spade now leading the charge, but that was pretty much it. None of the villagers were even whispering to one-another anymore.</p><p>He squeezed Trucy’s fingers again and hoped that she would think he was trying to comfort her instead of it being the other way around.</p><p>A few seconds passed before he realised that the distance he was following the crowd at was closing and they were catching up. They had all stopped and were now standing still, some shuffling awkwardly in place, and when Phoenix caught up and lifted Trucy in his arms to see over their heads, he noticed that they had arrived at Dr Wallace’s clinic.</p><p>He stood on tiptoe to get a good look, but this quickly proved pointless as Jack hopped up the steps to the clinic’s front door and knocked on it with the end of her spade’s handle.</p><p>“Doctor!” she called. “Dr Wallace!”</p><p>Phoenix held his breath. What kind of hell was going to break loose when the doctor dared to emerge?</p><p>Minutes passed in near silence. Jack looked back at her crowd, visibly uncomfortable about having to wait, and a few people plucked up the courage to whisper to each other.</p><p>Was he there or not? Or was he still asleep?</p><p>No, it seemed not. The door clicked open and Dr Wallace’s unshaven face poked out, scowling and shadow-eyed, obviously very recently roused and pretty damn annoyed by that fact. Jack recoiled in alarm at the sight and stepped back under his withering glare, which he slowly turned across the crowd that stood waiting at his door.</p><p>He licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak.</p><p>“None of you have appointments,” he said flatly. “Book one and come back later.”</p><p>He stepped back and shut the door.</p><p>Phoenix felt a swell of pride at the sight and fought back a snort of laughter as a woman with a scarf wrapped around her hair rollers leaped up to the door and hammered on the wood.</p><p>“You aren’t getting out of this that easy, murderer!” Her shouting was piercing and shrill. “Come out and own up to what you’ve done!”</p><p>She huffed and crossed her arms as the door opened again, and this time Dr Wallace stepped outside, straightening the white coat he had clearly just tossed on over the top of his pyjamas.</p><p>“Alright then,” he sighed as he tied back his hair. “What do you all want? I warn you now; you’re hardly the most terrifying people I’ve ever come across.”</p><p>He ran his fingers through his ponytail with apparently the smuggest smirk he could manage.</p><p>“You’ve got another thing coming if you think you can chase me out of this village through sheer intimidation,” he told the crowd.</p><p>“Who do you think you are, Mr High and Mighty?” cried the hair-roller woman. “Don’t act like you don’t know what you did!”</p><p>Dr Wallace crossed his arms far more calmly than she had.</p><p>“Alright then,” he said.</p><p>He looked away from the crowd, out at the bridge that led to the enclosed little neighbourhood across the gorge. Phoenix didn’t know if he had ever seen anyone so calm in the face of these kinds of accusations.</p><p>“So…” a male voice said awkwardly, “…you admit it?”</p><p>Dr Wallace glanced down at where the voice had come from, but then turned back to admiring the scenery. It was as if he was surrounded by children he was deliberately ignoring as punishment.</p><p>“Say something!” the roller-woman shouted.</p><p>“You told me not to act like I didn’t know what I did,” the doctor told her, “so if I just refrain from doing <em> anything</em>, then-”</p><p>“YOU POISONED MY HUSBAND!”</p><p>The scream was accompanied by a thin silver rod being thrust in Dr Wallace’s face from the front of the crowd.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart, please-” Jack started.</p><p>“No!” the same woman yelled again. “No, I don’t want to hear it! My husband is sick in bed because of your recklessness! For all I know, he could die!”</p><p>Dr Wallace finally looked down at the crowd, at the woman who had been shouting, and the beginnings of his smile disappeared.</p><p>“Then why are you here?” he asked. “If he’s ill, shouldn’t he have somebody caring for him?”</p><p>The smug smirk returned.</p><p>“Trust me,” he said. “I’m a doctor.”</p><p>“You <em> impudent- </em>”</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart, get <em> back! </em>” Jack used her spade to press the furious woman back into the crowd before turning back to the doctor, brandishing her trusty tool. “So you’re denying it?”</p><p>The doctor in question rolled his eyes.</p><p>“If someone can tell me what I’m being accused of,” he replied, “perhaps I could respond to those claims in some way. However…” He turned to look at the rest of the crowd. “…if all you lot have come to do is hurl abuse at me, then I’ll have to ask you to exit the premises.”</p><p>He reached behind his back to open his door again.</p><p>“You’ll stress my bonsai tree,” he added.</p><p>Jack reached forward and yanked the door closed.</p><p>“Dr Bill Wallace,” she said firmly, “you have been accused of prescribing the incorrect medication to one of your patients. Said patient has taken very ill as a result. Do you deny it?”</p><p>Dr Wallace’s sigh was heavy and exhausted.</p><p>“I understand now,” he groaned, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes. I deny it. I’d have to be some starving sleep-deprived college student intern to make such an amateurish mistake. Which patient are you referring to?”</p><p>“My <em> husband! </em>” shrieked the woman with the silver rod.</p><p>“You poisoned Wrenkley!” cried another voice in the crowd.</p><p>“If he dies, it’ll be on YOUR head!” yelled another.</p><p>With that fuse lit, the gathered villagers descended into shouts of accusation and gossips of suspicion. Phoenix took a step back, lowering Trucy to the floor in case they needed to run if things got out of hand.</p><p>“Mr Wright!”</p><p>He didn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated at the sound of that familiar voice or the sight of the approaching top hat.</p><p>“What in the world is going on?!” demanded the gentleman wearing it.</p><p>“We heard the shouting all the way from the other side of the bridge!” cried Luke, clutching his cap and staring at the throng in bafflement. “What’s happening? Who’s been poisoned?”</p><p>“No clue,” Phoenix sighed. “People are saying the doctor mixed up medicines or something.”</p><p>“He’s not even been here for an entire day!” Trucy pointed out. “Do you think they might hurt him?”</p><p>Phoenix squeezed her hand again to comfort her.</p><p>He only barely noticed the Professor taking hold of his hat by the brim before plunging himself into the mob, his headwear a beacon showing his position as he pushed his way through with accompanying shouts of shock and protest.</p><p>“Good people!” he called.</p><p>He came into view at the front and stepped up to the doorway to make himself visible beside Dr Wallace, and the crowd fell silent at his sudden appearance.</p><p>“If I could ask that you all be quiet,” he requested, unshaken as ever, “I’m sure that we can settle this calmly and with-”</p><p>“Watch yourself, hat man!” The yell came once again from the woman in hair rollers. “How do we know you’re not in on it?!”</p><p>“How do we know you two aren’t planning to poison the whole village?!” This shout came from one of the prior male voices.</p><p>“Why did you even come here in the first place?” This demand was accompanied, once again, by an accusing point of a thin silver rod.</p><p>Layton frowned at the crowd, one hand on the brim of his hat.</p><p>“I am here to conduct an investigation,” he said. “I hold no malicious intent toward any person here, and I’m sure I speak for Dr Wallace in that regard as well.”</p><p>He turned to look up at the doctor.</p><p>“Is that correct?” he asked.</p><p>Dr Wallace sighed and rubbed his face again.</p><p>“I swore an oath not to take any life or, through my actions, allow any person to come to harm,” he stated with remarkable calmness. “I stand by my oath and my claim that I in no way prescribed any person the incorrect medication.”</p><p>He looked out at the crowd, his frown more frustrated than ever.</p><p>“If you have any grievances,” he said, “please file a formal complaint with the-”</p><p>“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!”</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart, please keep your voice down!” Jack clutched her spade in a noticeably defensive manner. “We aren’t going to get anywhere by screaming at each other!”</p><p>Phoenix took a deep breath. He hated to admit it, but it seemed like there was only one way any of this mess could be put to rest.</p><p>“No,” he said, raising his voice as much as he dared. “We aren’t.”</p><p>“Who said that?” shrieked the roller woman. “Show yourself!”</p><p>He raised his hand.</p><p>“Back here,” he called.</p><p>He suddenly felt very small as every eye outside the clinic turned in his direction, and he lifted Trucy into his arms again as a signal that they needed to watch themselves.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” He could see Jack’s grip tighten on her spade. “You have something to suggest?”</p><p>“Why should we listen to him?” cried one of the villagers. “He rode in with that blasted doctor! How do we know he’s not in on it too?!”</p><p>“Oh, <em> please</em>,” Phoenix sighed. “I didn’t even know what was going on until I came down from my room this morning.” He shifted Trucy on his hip. “Plus my daughter and I went to bed early yesterday because we were both exhausted!”</p><p>“Not only that,” said Dr Wallace, “but-”</p><p>“You be quiet, murderer!” A silver rod shoved in his face sent him silent.</p><p>Layton leaned forward to look at Jack.</p><p>“Pardon me,” he said, “Miss…”</p><p>“Hill,” Jack replied. “Jack Hill.”</p><p>“Ms Hill,” said Layton. “I know Mr Wright quite well. You may be interested to know that he is, in fact, a defence lawyer.”</p><p>The tone of the crowd’s chattering took on an edge of curiosity. Trucy leaned into Phoenix and he wrapped an arm around her for security. Whether it was her security or his, he still wasn’t entirely sure.</p><p>“As a matter of fact…” Layton’s voice quickly silenced the chatter again. “…I had the privilege of watching him work only yesterday.”</p><p>He turned to Phoenix, beaming with pride.</p><p>“He saw to it that an innocent, frightened young girl avoided arrest for a crime she hadn’t committed,” he explained. “I’m positive that if you give him a chance, he will see to it that this misunderstanding can be cleared up.”</p><p>Phoenix felt his heart drop even further, and he pulled Trucy in for another hug.</p><p>To his alarm, she whispered to him:</p><p>“You can do it, Daddy!”</p><p>Oh god.</p><p>Did <em> she </em> want him to do it again as well?</p><p>“What do you say, Mr Wright?” Layton called across the crowd.</p><p>Phoenix had to force himself not to shrink away.</p><p>“HOLD IT!”</p><p>Jack accompanied her shout with a slam of her spade against the clinic wall, silencing the crowd in seconds.</p><p>“If you want to clear up anything, you’re going to do it where all of us can see you!” She pointed her spade right at Phoenix’s face. “No funny business! Understand?”</p><p>“Then we’ll hold a trial!” cried Luke, and Phoenix was struck by a sudden urge to strangle the boy. “Right now! Make it official so nobody can lie and nobody can get away with making false accusations!”</p><p>Phoenix gulped.</p><p>“I know you can do it, Dad!” Trucy said to him. “You did great on the train! Who cares if you’ve got a badge or not?”</p><p>He looked over at her face, her eyes wide with pleading and bottom lip trembling like she could burst into tears at any moment. When he looked down at Luke, he saw the boy watching him with worry and hope.</p><p>Not only that, but he could still feel the eyes of what was probably half the village boring into his body.</p><p>He lowered Trucy down the ground and rubbed his head under his hat.</p><p>“Yeah,” he groaned. “Okay. Fine.”</p><p>He heard a <em> thump </em> from the front of the crowd as Jack stabbed her spade at the step she still stood on.</p><p>“This is ridiculous,” she sighed. “All of you keep your knickers from getting in a twist, alright?”</p><p>She stepped down and the crowd parted around her as she walked.</p><p>“I’m going to go and speak to Ms Skellig and get this sorted out,” she said, and turned to Phoenix with a furious frown. “Mr Wright, if you really want to play defence, I suggest you and your ‘client’ stay the hell away from this area and don’t touch <em> anything</em>.”</p><p>“This is ludicrous!” The roller-haired woman pushed her way through the crowd. “Where are we ever going to hold a <em> trial </em> on such short notice?!”</p><p>“The town hall!” Jack pointed at the hall atop the hill with her spade’s handle. “Where else? You lot are to stay away too!” The villagers jumped back as she waved her spade around at them. “I’ve seen enough police dramas to know what planting evidence is and I won’t have any of you arrested for it!”</p><p>She passed one final glare at Phoenix before walking back in the Sacred Well’s direction, the villagers slowly filtering away in her wake. One or two of them cast suspicious glances at his face, but he remained impassive.</p><p>He’d grown used to people glaring at him in hatred by now.</p><p>At least these ones were keeping it brief.</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t avoid the heaviest yawn he’d had all week.</p><p>“I just can’t get away from it, can I?” he groaned.</p><p>“You shouldn’t!” He looked down to see Trucy clenching her fists in determination. “Badge or no badge, Dad, you’re a lawyer, through and through! You’re the legendary <em> Phoenix Wright! </em>” She threw up her hands as if in celebration. “NOBODY could stand in your way!”</p><p>His eyes were caught by the approaching shadow of Dr Wallace, who was still rubbing the dust out of his eyes.</p><p>“This is ridiculous,” he sighed. “I understand I haven’t been in this town very long, but I don’t make mistakes when it comes to prescriptions.”</p><p>Phoenix put his hand in his jacket pocket so that nobody could see him clenching his fist.</p><p>“We’ll see,” he said, and looked up as Layton approached, hand on hat.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” said the Professor. “Might I suggest you proceed to the hall with Dr Wallace? Luke and I will examine this supposed crime scene and we will join you as soon as our investigation is completed.”</p><p>‘Mr Wright’ struggled not to sigh in relief. So it wasn’t going to be a <em> complete </em> blast from the past after all.</p><p>“Good call,” he said, and took Dr Wallace by the arm. “Come on, Doc.”</p><p>“W-wait!”</p><p>Dr Wallace shook himself out of Phoenix’s grip. His eyes were suddenly wide and wild.</p><p>“Dr Wallace?” Layton stepped back in shock.</p><p>“You…”</p><p>Sweat was beading on the doctor’s forehead.</p><p>“My cherry tree!” he cried. “My bonsai tree!”</p><p>He seized Layton by the shoulders, causing a faint yelp of shock from the smaller man’s throat.</p><p>“Don’t let anybody touch it!” he demanded as the Professor tried to squirm out of his grip. “Don’t let anybody lay a finger on it!”</p><p>“Don’t worry, doctor!” Luke hurried forward and pulled Dr Wallace’s arms away. “We’ll make sure it’s kept safe!”</p><p>The doctor sighed through gritted teeth as he released the Professor, and he plunged his hands into his coat pockets.</p><p>“Please do,” he muttered meekly. “That tree’s the only thing keeping me sane.”</p><p>Layton calmly straightened his own coat and adjusted his hat by its brim.</p><p>“We shall see that no harm comes to it,” he said calmly.</p><p>Phoenix rolled his eyes and took the doctor by the arm again.</p><p>“We’d better get moving, Doc,” he said with a gentle tug. “Those guys will get even more suspicious if they think you’re avoiding them.”</p><p>“Right…” Dr Wallace turned to walk away from his clinic. “Right, I understand.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Dr Wallace!” Trucy said cheerfully. “My dad’s the best lawyer who ever lived!”</p><p>Phoenix managed a brief twitch of a smile as he led this latest client away from the supposed crime scene and towards the location of their trial.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Layton straightened his hat again and watched the trio departing with a frown.</p><p>“She says he’s the best lawyer, but did you hear what she said earlier?” Luke asked behind him. “When she was trying to talk him into it?”</p><p>“Faintly,” said Layton, recalling that he had been on the far end of a crowd, “but indeed I did.”</p><p>He cast his eyes up the hill at the town hall that loomed over their heads.</p><p>“So Mr Wright lost his job?” he pondered. “That would explain a few things.”</p><p>“Yes, but it raises so many <em> more </em> questions!” Luke pointed out.</p><p>The Professor turned to look at him and found him fiddling with his coat’s toggles, frowning in concern.</p><p>“Questions we can put aside for now, my boy,” Layton said. “What matters at this point is that we find the truth about what happened in this clinic yesterday.”</p><p>He looked over at the building in question and could just about see a small plant sitting on a windowsill.</p><p>“As well as making sure Dr Wallace’s beloved bonsai is kept safe,” he added with a smile.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><em> Mr Wright’s hat </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - A gift from my daughter. You’re joking if you think I’m taking it off </em></p><p><em> Bonsai tree </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - A small cherry tree. Dr Wallace’s greatest treasure. Seems to go everywhere with him </em></p><p> </p><p>Phoenix tapped the eraser end of his pencil against his journal page.</p><p>Was that all he could add? He’d started trials with less, it was true, but it still felt a little embarrassing to be going in with such a sparse list.</p><p>Perhaps if this doctor could stop pacing, he would be able to concentrate, but he couldn’t have everything, huh?</p><p>He leaned down to look at the little girl who was to blame for their situation, who stood next to him leaning against the building’s wall. The hill the town hall stood on top of was a lot smaller than it had appeared from below, so there wasn’t much of a view. Mostly rooftops. Chimneys devoid of the smoke columns they had spouted out last night. A sky that was overcast and dull. Trees that popped up here and there like acne on greasy skin.</p><p>And, of course, Dr Wallace pacing back and forth, wringing his hands and grimacing in discomfort.</p><p>Phoenix snapped his journal shut and the doctor flinched at the sound.</p><p>“I want to get one thing straight before we go any further, Dr Wallace,” Phoenix said regardless. “Did you really <em> not </em> do it? Tell me the truth.”</p><p>Dr Wallace finally stopped pacing, but tapped his foot instead and continued wringing his hands.</p><p>“Let me put it this way,” he snapped, and Phoenix got the impression he was struggling not to talk too fast. “I’d never spoken to anybody in this village before I arrived here yesterday, save for the previous doctor whose positioned I claimed. Even then, it was only via phone.”</p><p>He leaned to one side, trying to look through the building’s glass doors and its foyer into the hall that was to be their court.</p><p>“All those people who came up to my front door earlier?” he said. “In that entire crowd, I only recognised <em> one </em> person.”</p><p>“So you had no motive whatsoever,” Phoenix concluded as the doctor walked over to the wall. “Got it.”</p><p>Dr Wallace thumped his back against the building and slid down until he was sitting against the wall, clutching his head in his hands. He dug his fingers so hard into his scalp that his ponytail threatened to come loose.</p><p>“And they can’t just say he wanted to hurt someone, can they?” asked Trucy. “He’s a <em> doctor! </em>”</p><p>She looked down at the doctor in question, who was shrinking in on himself so hard that he threatened to collapse into a singularity.</p><p>“You wouldn’t deliberately hurt someone for no reason, would you?” Trucy asked him.</p><p>“Absolutely not.” Dr Wallace released his now-messy hair and started wringing his hands again. “I’ve spent enough time around people hurting each other to know I wanted no part of it whatsoever.”</p><p>Oh boy. Phoenix knew a Tragic Backstory™ when he saw it. Better to leave this one alone.</p><p>“I understand,” he said. “Then there’s your oath, of course. The, uh… the Hippocratic oath, right?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t taken it,” Dr Wallace spat. “The idea that I’d break it without any good reason is ridiculous.”</p><p>“And they can’t say it was self-defence!” Trucy clenched her fists again. “You don’t prescribe somebody the wrong meds in self-defence! You’d kick ‘em or punch ‘em or throw cards in their face!”</p><p>Phoenix bit back a comment on how the last one was exclusive to her.</p><p>“You said it, Truce,” he told her, and tucked his pencil behind his ear. “If you ask me…”</p><p>He looked around to make sure no other villagers were nearby.</p><p>“…this whole thing stinks like a rotten egg sandwich,” he commented. “You’re not even here a full 24 hours and you’re already being accused of malpractice?”</p><p>Dr Wallace paused his wringing.</p><p>“I suppose that does seem a bit strange,” he agreed.</p><p>“I wonder what the prosecutor’s going to say?” said Trucy, and she gave a little hum of thought. “Hey, Daddy?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Do you know who the prosecutor will be this time? It isn’t that Flynch guy again, is it?”</p><p>Phoenix rubbed the stubble on his chin and tried to remember one of the many, <em> many </em> things that had happened yesterday.</p><p>“Last I saw, he was switching onto a train to Inverness,” he recalled, “so unless he <em> also </em> has a daughter who <em> also </em> dragged him onto the wrong bus, I doubt he’d be way out here in the sticks.”</p><p>Trucy nodded in understanding, but her face quickly fell into a frown.</p><p>“Why couldn’t he just get a train from London to Inverness?” she wondered aloud. “I think I saw it on that leaderboard thing before we boarded the train yesterday morning!”</p><p>“Ours is not to judge the mind of a prosecutor, Trucy-Goosy,” said Phoenix, unable to avoid a smile at her remark. “By this point, I’ll just be content with anybody who doesn’t physically assault me.”</p><p>He didn’t think his comment had been very funny, but Trucy giggled regardless. Such a sweet, innocent little soul. One untainted by the lashing of a whip or splattering of scalding hot coffee.</p><p>“At least we’ve got the perfect client if that happens!” she pointed out.</p><p>When Phoenix looked down at that client, he saw the man had returned to pressing his fingers into his head. His knuckles were white between his hair.</p><p>“You doing okay over there, Doc?” he asked.</p><p>Dr Wallace responded with what sounded like a growl.</p><p>“I can’t stop thinking about my bonsai tree,” he snarled. “Do you have ANY idea how much work it takes to cultivate the <em> shakan </em>shape? How awful it feels to have to bind the branches so that they grow to the correct size and direction? Not to mention climate control! If it doesn’t get as much sun as possible during the morning, I’ll have to send out for a heat lamp and god knows if that can even be delivered this far up in the mountains-!”</p><p>“Don’t worry!” Trucy jumped in front of him to catch his attention.  “I know I haven’t known the Professor and Luke for very long, but they’re super smart and <em> super </em> nice! I’m sure they’ll take good care of your bonsai!”</p><p>She squatted down and tried to look Dr Wallace in the eye.</p><p>“Does it have a name?” she asked him.</p><p>Dr Wallace raised his head and stared at her in confusion.</p><p>“Name?” he said. “For a <em> tree?! </em>”</p><p>“You didn’t think to name it?” Trucy fell back into sitting on the ground, gaping in horror. “How could you?! Isn’t it your best friend?”</p><p>“I can’t tell people my best friend is a tree,” Dr Wallace replied flatly. “That’s just pathetic.”</p><p>“Oh, come on!” cried Trucy. “If you love something, you HAVE to name it! Daddy’s old boss called her favourite pot plant Charley!”</p><p>“Okay, okay, fine,” the doctor groaned.</p><p>His focus shifted away from Trucy and, for the briefest of moments, his eyes seemed almost glazed over. It took him a few seconds before he finally spoke a name:</p><p>“Stefan.”</p><p>“There you go!” Trucy said happily. “Perfect! I’m sure Stefan’s totally fine!”</p><p>“…yeah.” Dr Wallace’s voice was barely audible anymore. “I’m sure he is.”</p><p>He flinched again at the sound of a knock on the door beside Phoenix. When the three of them looked up, they saw Jack standing there, leaning around the entranceway.</p><p>“If you three are ready,” she said, “we’re all set up.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Phoenix said, and she disappeared back into the building.</p><p>He offered a hand to Trucy and pulled her to her feet.</p><p>“I hope I don’t get in trouble for this,” he told her as Dr Wallace pressed himself to his feet, “but there’s no way they’ve had enough time to organise a legitimate trial, so they don’t necessarily need a legitimate lawyer, do they?”</p><p>The doctor let out a groan of frustration.</p><p>“You don’t inspire a great deal of confidence,” he remarked.</p><p>“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Phoenix assured him. “Somehow. Come on, let’s get inside already.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The room was clearly meant to be some kind of multipurpose hall, of the sort a person might find in a school, complete with a stage and a little kitchen off to the right. Right now, however, a lectern had been positioned at the front of the stage and two arrangements of tables had been set up to serve as benches for the defence and prosecution. As for the witness stand, it was just another table, looking like the sort that could be folded up for storage.</p><p>Not a great deal better than the makeshift courtroom on the train, but at the very least, significantly more spacious. Enough room that the people in the gallery could actually sit down on cheap folding chairs clearly made for watching the performances that were meant to take place on that stage, rather than standing shoulder to shoulder and struggling to get a good look.</p><p>It seemed like by now, the entire village had come to the hall. There were more than Phoenix had expected and they gossiped amongst themselves as he led Trucy into the newly set-up court, but he still felt eyes on the back of his head as they walked over to their side of the room.</p><p>Dr Wallace continued wringing his hands as he took his place. No proper defendant seat had been set up, so he just had a chair on the defence’s side of the hall, tucked away where only half of the angry villagers could glower at him in suspicion.</p><p>Phoenix took a deep breath as he assumed his position behind the bench. Beside him, Trucy thumped her chin onto the tabletop; once again, she was only barely tall enough to see over the top of it. Phoenix wondered if he ought to offer to pick her up.</p><p>
  <em> *tap tap tap* </em>
</p><p>No way was that a real gavel, right?</p><p>Looking up at the lectern on the stage, Phoenix noticed a tall, bald, olive-skinned man with a luscious white beard – was that just the fashion for judges these days? – and a long black coat that was almost definitely a bathrobe. His gavel appeared to be a small metal hammer, silver in colour, and rather pathetic in stature.</p><p>Nevertheless, the gossiping faded out at the sound of its tapping.</p><p>“Court is now in session for the trial of Dr Bill Wallace.” Without any microphone, the judge’s voice carried clear across the hall.</p><p>“Daddy!” Trucy whispered to Phoenix. “The acoustics in here are <em> amazing! </em>”</p><p>Phoenix tried not to smile too noticeably as he looked up at the judge, who was frowning down at the court.</p><p>“I understand these proceedings were arranged on very short notice,” the bald man said, “but permission for this gathering was kindly provided by our mayor, and I am prepared to pass judgement as soon as it becomes necessary. Now then…”</p><p>He looked down at Phoenix, his eyes shadowed by the sharp edge of his brow.</p><p>“…if the gentleman behind the defence’s bench would kindly identify himself for the court?”</p><p>Phoenix straightened up. It was the closest he could come to looking presentable.</p><p>“Your Honour,” he said, “my name is Phoenix Wright. My daughter and I will be handling the defence today…”</p><p>He trailed off, feeling his daughter’s gaze from the tabletop. Sure enough, when he glanced down, the poor little thing was still dejectedly resting her chin on their bench.</p><p>“…just as soon as somebody could provide a chair or something for her to stand on.”</p><p>“Ah, of course.” To Phoenix’s relief, the judge gave him a patient nod. “If somebody could please take one of the chairs out of the backstage storeroom?”</p><p>“I’m on it!”</p><p>A blur of black and purple blew past Phoenix as Jack hurried across the hall to a door beside the stage, and she emerged just a few seconds later carrying a folded chair slung over her shoulder.</p><p>“Here you are, Mr Wright,” she said proudly as she passed it over the bench.</p><p>“Thank you!” Trucy replied.</p><p>Jack gave a little salute as she returned to the gallery, and Phoenix set up the chair for his daughter to stand on, just like she had on the train.</p><p>“The defence is ready, Your Honour,” he reported as soon as she was in place.</p><p>The judge responded with a slow blink.</p><p>“So I see,” he said. “However, it doesn’t seem we can say the same for the prosecution.”</p><p>Sure enough, the bench on the far side of the hall was empty.</p><p>Phoenix was struck by a sudden urge to count with his fingers, and he hid his hand under the table so that nobody would get suspicious.</p><p>“If no person steps up to the bench,” said the judge, “I shall have to declare the defendant not guilty by default.”</p><p>Five…</p><p>“Don’t you dare!” yelled someone in the gallery, which burst into yet more angered chattering.</p><p>Four…</p><p>“He should hang for what he’s done!” shouted someone else. “HANG FOR IT!”</p><p>Three…</p><p>“Coming out of nowhere and poisoning us!” screamed a third voice.</p><p>Two…</p><p>“Justice for Wrenkley!” chanted a fourth. “JUSTICE FOR WRENKLEY!”</p><p>One…</p><p>The hall’s door opened.</p><p>“Fear not, my good people.”</p><p>There it was.</p><p>Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but those five words were enough to almost utterly silence the court as she swept into the room, her long white coat and pale blue skirt flowing in her wake. Her footfalls were equally as soft as she made her way past the gallery and towards the prosecution side of the hall.</p><p>“Oh my gosh, it’s Michaela!” gasped someone in the gallery.</p><p>“Our angel is coming to serve justice!” whispered someone else.</p><p>“Show them no mercy, Michaela!” called a particularly bold villager.</p><p>“Our graceful darling!” cried someone else. “Michaela, do your best!”</p><p>She adjusted the white scarf that rested at her neck and tossed a long lock of her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder, and twitched her silver-framed glasses in Phoenix’s direction. He couldn’t help thinking they’d be more comfortable if she took that grey beanie off.</p><p>“You are…” Damn, did she even have her eyes open? “…Phoenix Wright?”</p><p>Phoenix rolled his eyes. Yet another prosecutor beloved by the court? How <em> wonderful</em>.</p><p>“Yeah,” he said. “We’ve just established that.”</p><p>She rested a gloved hand on her pale cheek.</p><p>“And you and that darling girl beside you,” she said in a voice so light and gentle that it could lull a chronic insomniac to sleep, “you are not from this country, let alone this village, are you?”</p><p>“Nope,” Phoenix said simply, and gave the brightest smile he could manage. “Nice place, by the way! The subtle xenophobia really adds to the scenery!”</p><p>The woman who was to serve as their prosecutor lowered her hand from her face, retaining the same gentle smile she’d worn since the moment she’d stepped into the room.</p><p>“My name is Michaela Skellig,” she said, “and I shall be acting as your prosecutor today.”</p><p>Her smile widened ever so slightly.</p><p>“It is truly a pleasure to meet you!”</p><p>More whispers fluttered through the gallery. Phoenix looked over at Dr Wallace, who gave him a shrug of bafflement, and when he looked up at the judge, his heart sank. The black-clad man was gazing at this latest arrival with love glimmering in his eyes.</p><p>“Daddy, everybody’s already on her side!” Trucy whispered to her father. “And she’s really pretty too!”</p><p>“Just be glad they’re not using a jury system here,” Phoenix replied. “Six people already head-over-heels for this lady? We’d be done for!”</p><p>The prosecutor – Michaela, it seemed – gave the judge a shy little wave, prompting the man to chuckle in blatant adoration.</p><p>“Now that our dear prosecutor has arrived,” he said happily, “I do believe we can properly commence the proceedings.”</p><p>He tapped his little hammer on the lectern.</p><p>“Michaela, dear,” he said, “if you would be so kind as to provide us with an opening statement?”</p><p>“Uncle Angus, please!” Michaela giggled like a schoolgirl. “While we are in an official court of law, would you be so kind as to refer to me as Ms Skellig? And I in turn should call you ‘Your Honour’.”</p><p>Phoenix gritted his teeth and reminded himself that slapping members of the court for unprofessionalism would, in turn, cause him to appear unprofessional.</p><p>“Yes, of course, my darling,” the judge responded with a fatherly smile. “You have my apologies. Ms Skellig, could you please provide the court with your opening statement?”</p><p>“Of course,” said Michaela, and she turned herself to face the room at large. “Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow citizens…”</p><p>She still seemed to have her eyes closed, but there was no mistaking that she had turned her gaze towards the defence.</p><p>“…those who are simply passing through,” she continued, “what we have witnessed in our dear village is a heartbreaking betrayal of trust, for you see, one of our own paid a visit to our new man of medicine, a doctor who goes by the name of Bill Wallace, and yet the search for treatment was turned on its head when our friend, Mr Wrenkley Oldfart, was given a medication leaving him so gravely sickened that he is unable to attend the very court seeking justice for his grievance.”</p><p>By the time she had finished speaking, Phoenix felt as though he had been run over by a steamroller.</p><p>“Holy run-on sentences, Batman,” he muttered to himself.</p><p>“My deepest, most desperate wish is that by the end of this day,” Michaela went on, “we have found the truth of these terrible circumstances, and that they can be put to rest for the sake of the recovery of our dear Mr Oldfart.”</p><p>Jeez, was she <em> still </em> smiling? It was starting to feel dishonest.</p><p>“Oh my goodness, did you hear that?” whispered someone in the gallery.</p><p>“She’s so eloquent!” added someone else.</p><p>“Seems like only yesterday she was drawing puffins on the King’s Arms wall!” came a third murmur.</p><p>“But did you see her most recent watercolours?” said someone else. “She’s come so far!”</p><p>“Be careful, Dad!” Trucy tugged on Phoenix’s sleeve. “It’s almost like you’re going up against another rock star!”</p><p>“But somehow I have a feeling this is going to be way more infuriating,” Phoenix groaned. “The least she could do is <em> look </em>at us!”</p><p>The judge’s nodding was slow and contemplative.</p><p>“Beautifully worded, Ms Skellig, as always,” he said. “I almost feel ready to render my verdict right now.”</p><p>“Oh, that would be wonderful, Your Honour.” Michaela clasped her hands in joy.</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>Trucy accompanied her shout by stomping her foot, as hard as she could, on their bench.</p><p>“What kind of trial would this be if we didn’t even cross-examine any witnesses?” She pointed as dramatically as she could. “I demand that the trial continue!”</p><p>Phoenix tried his hardest to hide just how much the pride had swelled within him. He cleared his throat and hoped nobody would notice his struggle.</p><p>“What my co-counsel says is the truth,” he said as Trucy lowered her foot. “The court has yet to be presented any proof of the defendant’s guilt. So far, all we have is hearsay.”</p><p>He couldn’t avoid a glance at the gallery.</p><p>“Hearsay,” he said, “and a rather disturbing display of mob mentality that my young daughter and I witnessed not one hour prior. That being said, I hereby recommend that all outcries from the gallery be henceforth held in contempt of court.”</p><p>There was something satisfying about kicking a wasp’s nest when the wasps were legally barred from touching him. The buzzing in the gallery was positively <em> furious </em> this time.</p><p>“Good gracious!”</p><p>“The cheek! The <em> nerve! </em>”</p><p>“How can they speak that way to our dear Michaela?!”</p><p>The judge slammed what passed for a gavel on what passed for his bench.</p><p>“Order! Order!” He shouted the gallery into silence. “Objection sustained. We don’t want this trial to be unfair, after all. However, the defence doesn’t have the authority to decide what is and what isn’t considered an act of contempt.”</p><p>He stared straight at the gathered villagers, and Phoenix again tried to hide his satisfaction.</p><p>“Nevertheless,” the judge said, “I request that the gallery refrain from any outbursts or commentary that could affect the court’s decision in the future.”</p><p>“An excellent idea, Your Honour,” Michaela said happily, “and I am grateful for your consideration, so without further ado, if you would all be so kind, I shall call upon my very first witnesses of the morning.”</p><p>Phoenix fished out his pencil and journal.</p><p>He already had a feeling this was going to be one hell of a morning.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The woman now standing before the court was the same one who had been shouting at Dr Wallace earlier, Phoenix realised. There was no mistaking those hair rollers or the colourful scarf wrapped around them. As for the man standing beside her… if she resembled an ostrich, which she most certainly did, the man beside her seemed more like an elephant. His ears were <em> enormous </em> and that pipe of his was definitely not dissimilar to a trunk.</p><p>“My dear friends,” Michaela said with a smile, “I am sure that you know me and that I know you equally as well, but may I please request that you state your names and occupations for the sake of our visiting defenders?”</p><p>“HOLD IT!” Trucy stomped on their bench again. “Isn’t witness testimony supposed to be a one-at-a-time thing?!”</p><p>“Oh, listen to the dear child!” The hair-roller woman’s thin shoulders shook as she giggled.</p><p>“Isn’t she such a little sweetheart?” The man beside her chuckled as well.</p><p>Phoenix gently nudged Trucy’s foot off the bench.</p><p>“You’ve got the spirit, Truce,” he told her, “but at times like this, it’s best to just go with it.”</p><p>The old man at the stand drew himself up to his full height, transforming from an elephant into a large-eared turnip.</p><p>“My name is Neginald Teeve,” he said proudly. “I’m the electrician who maintains our local power generator and every odd job that needs doing around the village.” He took a long pull on his pipe. “Friends o’ mine call me Neggy. If you ever have problems with your wiring, come and see me!”</p><p>“And I’m his wife, Posy.” The woman beside him stood up even taller and stretched out her long, thin neck. “We’ve been married for over forty years now!”</p><p>“And I’ve regretted every second of it!” Neggy laughed beside her.</p><p>For some reason, now both of them were laughing.</p><p>“Gee, what lovely people,” Phoenix muttered to himself.</p><p>“Mr and Mrs Teeve, you are a delight to behold as always,” Michaela said happily, “and I am certain that you will continue to delight us as you provide your account concerning the terrible events that have taken place in our darling village.”</p><p>Phoenix could have sworn he felt his insides shrivelling up in distaste.</p><p>“Full stops, lady,” he grumbled. “Full stops are your friends.”</p><p>He tried to bury his frustration and appear professional as he looked back at the couple on the witness stand.</p><p>Time for the first witness testimony of what was probably going to be a <em> very </em> long day.</p><p>The woman – Posy – cleared her throat.</p><p>“The two of us had arranged for a doctor’s appointment yesterday afternoon,” she explained.</p><p>“My bunion was giving me gyp,” added her husband, “and I wanted to make sure it weren’t nothing serious.”</p><p>“We saw old Wrenkley going in and out,” Posy said thoughtfully, “and he looked pretty happy about whatever that doctor had said.”</p><p>“If only he’d known what was coming for him, eh?” Neggy chuckled.</p><p>“Between you and me,” Posy said as she turned her nose skyward, “I knew something was off about that doctor from the beginning!”</p><p>Phoenix tried not to sigh.</p><p>That was it, huh?</p><p>“Uncle Neggy, Auntie Posy,” Michaela said, just as content as before, “you have my dearest thanks for such a well-worded testimony.”</p><p>“Well-worded?” Phoenix mumbled to Trucy. “It sounded more like town gossip! The only thing missing is the cups of tea!”</p><p>“She called them Aunt and Uncle,” Trucy pointed out. “Do you think they’re related? Or is it more like Uncle Larry and Uncle Miles?”</p><p>“Unless everyone in this town is related, I’m going to assume it’s the latter,” Phoenix replied.</p><p>He resisted a comment on how likely it was that this entire village’s population <em> were </em> related to each other.</p><p>“Thank you, Mr and Mrs Teeve,” said the judge. “Well, defence? Whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>Phoenix nodded and opened up his journal, ready for the note taking. He had a feeling this was going to be a hard one.</p><p>“So you both went to the clinic at the same time?” he asked.</p><p>“Poor Neggy needed some help getting up the steps and through the door,” Posy told him. “He’s truly dreadful when the weather turns, you know!”</p><p>“Now now, Posy,” said Neggy, not bothering to remove his pipe from between his lips or even look in his wife’s direction. “You don’t want to go telling the entire town about my ailments, do you?”</p><p>Phoenix leaned down to Trucy so that nobody could hear him whisper:</p><p>“I have a feeling she already did that ages ago.”</p><p>Trucy tried to stifle her giggling as her father straightened up again.</p><p>“But you didn’t both go into the doctor’s office at the same time, did you?” he asked.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Posy spluttered. “Of course we did! Like I said, my dear Neggy’s hopeless without me!”</p><p>A tug on his sleeve caught Phoenix’s attention.</p><p>“Is it just me or does she seem awful clingy?” Trucy asked.</p><p>“I know, right?” Phoenix replied under his breath. “It’s pretty weird considering he doesn’t seem to like her all that much.”</p><p>“That’s not right!” Trucy clenched her fists. “People who’re married should be nice to each other! Are they in love or not?”</p><p>“Ours is not to pry, Trucy,” Phoenix said, and he noted down the details they had just learned on a fresh page in his journal before turning back to the witness stand.</p><p>He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. This was going to be a question he did <em> not </em> want to ask.</p><p>“A bunion, huh?”</p><p>Neggy’s chuckles sent puffs of smoke billowing out of his pipe.</p><p>“Got it doing my rounds,” he explained, “hiking up the roads from house to house and to our generator and back. Not just that, but I were a postman before I took up the toolbox! Want to see how bad it’s got?”</p><p>Again, Phoenix could have sworn he felt his insides shrivelling up and dying.</p><p>“…no thanks,” he groaned.</p><p>“Honestly, Neginald!” Posy slapped her husband on the shoulder and stuck her nose up again. “Must you insist on showing everybody your disgusting illnesses?”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Posy!” Neggy laughed. “If I have to live with it, I might as well make the most of it! The boy asked, didn’t he?”</p><p>“Daddy?” whispered Trucy. “Is it just me or is this totally not helpful at all?”</p><p>Phoenix sighed. Only two questions in and this cross-examination was already giving him a headache.</p><p>“Not just you,” he replied. “I feel like I’m dying on my feet over here.”</p><p>“I bet that’s how Mr Teeve feels with that bunion.”</p><p>“Ugh, don’t remind me…”</p><p>He swallowed, grimacing as he noted down these latest facts in his journal. He didn’t look back up at the witness stand until he was sure he wasn’t going to be sick.</p><p>“So you didn’t actually get to see what happened in your friend’s appointment?” he asked.</p><p>“Of course not!” cried Posy. “Not that we didn’t try to get a look-see, mind. I tried asking that stuck-up doctor about it and he wouldn’t tell me a thing!”</p><p>“Posy, for heaven’s sake!” sighed Neggy. “I told you it’s a doctor’s appointment! There’s a little thing called doctor-patient confidentiality!”</p><p>“If he’s going to live in our village, he needs to act like he’s one of us,” Posy argued back, “and that means talking to other people! He’s never going to make friends or settle in if he refuses to engage in a civil conversation! Why, just the other day, I called our Poppy who moved down to Falkirk and she had the cheek to tell me she couldn’t talk now because she was busy working! What sort of work keeps a girl from chatting with her dear old mum, eh?”</p><p>Phoenix could only blink as the rant washed over him.</p><p>“…the sort of work a girl is trying to do well, meaning she doesn’t have time to talk nonsense?” he said.</p><p>“Ugh!” Posy crossed her arms in a huff. “Well, I never!”</p><p>“Heh! You tell her, son!” laughed Neggy. “Why don’t <em> you </em>try being married to her for a few days?”</p><p>“No thanks,” Phoenix said bluntly.</p><p>He didn’t know if this was going to be worth anything, but he made a note of these details regardless.</p><p>“That being said,” he said, “do you have any proof that Dr Wallace made a mistake?”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” asked Posy. “All you have to do is look at dear old Wrenkley to know that he’s poorly!”</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t avoid a sigh.</p><p>“We <em> can’t </em> look at him, Mrs Teeve,” he pointed out. “The point of your testimony is that the victim isn’t here to testify on his own behalf.”</p><p>He looked back as Trucy tugged on his sleeve again.</p><p>“Daddy, do you think you should ask for more details?”</p><p>“Maybe…”</p><p>He resisted the urge to slam his hands on the tabletop.</p><p>“So let me see if I’ve got this straight,” he said as sternly as he could. “The two of you were in the clinic’s waiting room for the duration of Mr Oldfart’s appointment and, when it was your turn, Dr Wallace didn’t tell you anything that had happened during that time?”</p><p>“Yes, that’s correct!” Posy replied. “The <em> nerve </em> of that man!”</p><p>Phoenix shook his head.</p><p>“Mrs Teeve,” he said, “if there’s anybody in this courtroom with nerve, it’s you and your husband.”</p><p>He rested one of his hands in his jacket pocket.</p><p>“You don’t have any actual proof that Dr Wallace is responsible for Mr Oldfart’s sickness, do you?”</p><p>Neggy’s pipe slipped out of his mouth.</p><p>“U-uh…” he stammered.</p><p>“How dare you!” cried Posy. “Honestly, the nerve of young people these days! Is it really so difficult to learn how to respect your elders?!”</p><p>“In other words, no,” said Phoenix. “Not only that, but in my experience, respect is a privilege, not a right.”</p><p>He pocketed his other hand. The last thing he wanted was to let these people think he gave a damn about them.</p><p>“You want it?” he asked. “Earn it. Else you won’t get any of it from me.”</p><p>The onlookers in the gallery chattered and gossiped. Nobody spoke loud enough to be heard, but Phoenix noticed several angered glances being tossed his way.</p><p>“Order!” The judge slammed his little hammer on the lectern. “Order in the court!”</p><p>“It’s a simple question, Mr and Mrs Teeve,” Phoenix said as things started to die down. “Did you see Dr Wallace writing out the wrong prescription or didn’t you?”</p><p>“Objection.”</p><p>Her voice was soft, but Phoenix got the feeling that if he pointed out her lack of emphasis, the gallery would crucify him.</p><p>Michaela just tweaked the glasses she didn’t appear to need.</p><p>“Mr Wright,” she said, “I must confess to being a little saddened by your demeanour, as it should be clear that Mr and Mrs Teeve are simply a little intimidated by their setting and are struggling to remember the facts due to their stress, should it not?”</p><p>“OBJECTION!” Trucy’s stomp caused their bench to shudder. “That’s no excuse for standing in a courtroom and accusing a man of a crime he didn’t commit!”</p><p>Phoenix smiled and resisted the urge to high-five his little mind reader.</p><p>“My apologies, Ms Skellig,” he said, “but I have a firm precedent for my suspicion. Consider the case of State v. Miles Edgeworth in December of 2016; a case I defended in, as a matter of fact.”</p><p>He looked over at the witness stand and the two angry people who seemed determined not to look his way.</p><p>“While court proceedings were underway, a witness was called who, it turned out, didn’t witness squat,” he explained. “She just thought it would be fun to act as a witness in a murder trial and confessed as much while on the stand.”</p><p>He turned back to Michaela. Goddamn, she was <em> still </em>smiling.</p><p>“It’s not unheard of that a witness will lie,” he told her, “and the same can be said of lying about being a witness in the first place.”</p><p>Michaela nodded slowly.</p><p>“I understand perfectly, Mr Wright,” she replied, “and I thank you dearly for enlightening us about the reasons behind your suspicion of Mr and Mrs Teeve, but I can promise you that Uncle Neggy and Auntie Posy are two of the most honest people you could ever hope to meet and I trust them wholeheartedly when it comes to the validity of their testimony.”</p><p>“…are you doing that consciously?” Phoenix wondered quietly.</p><p>“As a visitor to our fair village, Mr Wright,” Michaela continued, “I cannot blame you for not knowing of this simple fact, but there is a reason for Posy Teeve to be quite familiar and friendly with Wrenkley Oldfart and his darling wife, for you see…”</p><p>She turned to look at the couple on the stand.</p><p>“…said darling wife, Nosie Oldfart, is Auntie Posy’s sister.”</p><p>And then she turned back to Phoenix, even though she still seemed to have her eyes closed.</p><p>“Do you understand now that it is quite possible for her to have put the pieces together in terms of who is responsible for the suffering of her brother-in-law?”</p><p>Phoenix tried his hardest not to sigh.</p><p>“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.</p><p>For the briefest of moments, Michaela’s gentle smile faltered.</p><p>“Pardon me, Mr Wright,” she said, “but I am afraid I do not quite understand what you mean.”</p><p>“So they’re family,” said Phoenix. “So what? What does that have to do with these people stepping up to the stand and accusing a doctor of malpractice without any evidence to back them up?”</p><p>The onlookers in the gallery chattered again, but the tone of that chattering seemed markedly different this time. There almost seemed to be agreement sprinkled in there.</p><p>“How am I doing so far, Truce?” Phoenix asked his co-counsel.</p><p>“You’re doing great!” Trucy replied happily.</p><p>“Oi!” cried Posy, her shrill voice silencing the chatter. “Don’t think we can’t hear you, brat!”</p><p>“Oi yourself,” snapped Phoenix. “Don’t you <em> dare </em> speak to my daughter like that.”</p><p>“Ha!” was Neggy’s response. “The sooner she gets exposed to the real world, the better!”</p><p>“I agree, darling,” said Posy, again with her nose pointed skyward. “Whoever said to spare the rod and spoil the child had obviously never met a child at all!”</p><p>“Mr and Mrs Teeve,” Michaela said softly, “could you please refrain from speaking about the defence’s co-counsel in such a manner, especially when her father is present?”</p><p>To Phoenix’s relief, the couple on the stand fell silent. Posy in particular looked rather red-faced and Neggy was fidgeting with his pipe.</p><p>“Only for you, sweetie,” he huffed.</p><p>Michaela just continued smiling, coiling a lock of pale blonde around her finger.</p><p>“Perhaps instead,” she said, “you could tell the court the reason behind your suspicion of our new doctor, and thereby clear up all of the defence’s confusion surrounding the matter?”</p><p>“Of course, Michaela darling!” Posy replied.</p><p>“We would be delighted to!” added Neggy.</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t hold back a quiet groan.</p><p>“This is already one of the most annoying trials I’ve ever defended in,” he muttered to Trucy.</p><p>He dredged up what was left of his composure and focused his attention on the witness stand yet again as Posy stuck her nose back up in the air</p><p>“Of course we suspected Dr Wallace was up to no good!” she stated.</p><p>“Surely you must have seen what he was doing before he even stepped inside that clinic, didn’t you?” Neggy asked with another puff on his pipe.</p><p>“He was messing around with the Sacred Well!” cried Posy. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was poisoning it!”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be surprised if he spiked his medicine with that water!” said Neggy.</p><p>“I honestly can’t think of <em> any </em> good reason why he might have taken water from our Sacred Well!” said Posy.</p><p>At the Sacred Well yesterday, huh?</p><p>Thinking back, the doctor hadn’t done anything suspect at all, had he? Just filled a couple of test tubes and kept Trucy from getting too close to Stefan.</p><p>The judge, who hadn’t seen that at all, was nodding in understanding.</p><p>“Whatever this man did to our Well,” he said slowly, “I certainly hope it doesn’t put anything or anyone in danger.”</p><p>“I understand completely,” Michaela said to her witnesses, “and I thank you both from the bottom of my heart for providing us with that information.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” said Trucy, not trying all that hard to keep her voice down. “I don’t think there was anything all that concrete in there.”</p><p>“There doesn’t have to be.” Phoenix, on the other hand, made sure his voice was low. “Don’t forget the Professor and Luke are still investigating the supposed crime scene. If we can hold out until they get back, we’ll be fine.”</p><p>“And you’re great at wasting time!” Trucy replied happily. “Right, Daddy?”</p><p>Phoenix blinked.</p><p>“…I wouldn’t have phrased it like that,” he said, “but I’ve had some practise.”</p><p>“Very well, Mr Wright,” said the judge, who thankfully hadn’t heard them. “You may commence your cross-examination.”</p><p>Trucy gave her dad a proud little smile as he prepared his journal and pencil.</p><p>This had already been <em> such </em> a long morning…</p><p>“You say ‘of course’ you suspected Dr Wallace,” he said to the witnesses, “but the aim of this line of questioning is to explain your reasoning because we didn’t understand it.”</p><p>“Don’t get pedantic, Sonny-Jim!” Neggy’s teeth clacked on his pipe.</p><p>“…my name is Phoenix,” Phoenix said weakly.</p><p>“What does it matter?” snapped Neggy. “Nobody likes a pedantic American!”</p><p>“As if it wasn’t bad enough that you Americans are doing your best to muck up the rest of the world,” Posy ranted, “now you’re trying to muck <em> us </em> up as well! We didn’t need you to explain that to us!”</p><p>“I would request that the defence refrain from posing such pedantic queries to the witness in the future,” Michaela said gently, “so would you be so kind as to oblige us of that, Mr Wright?”</p><p>It was <em> very </em> hard to avoid rolling eyes.</p><p>“I’m a lawyer, Ms Skellig,” Phoenix pointed out. “Pedantic queries are my bread and butter.”</p><p>The prosecutor giggled. Her laugh was light and musical, like the tinkling of a wind chime, and the sound of it made Phoenix’s skin crawl.</p><p>“I must confess that your appearance is not one that I would normally expect,” she told him, “from a person in a profession such as yours, as you seem to be a little, ah…”</p><p>She adjusted her glasses.</p><p>“…scruffy,” was the word she decided upon, “for a lawyer. However, seeing as this trial was organised quite suddenly and began quite early in the morning, I cannot blame you for such an untidy appearance and am therefore willing to, shall we say, let it slide.”</p><p>Some part of Phoenix begged him to scream.</p><p>“How do you know that if you won’t even look at me?!” he hissed to himself instead, and he wiped some of the dust out of his eyes with a sigh. “Never mind.”</p><p>Once again, there wasn’t any chance of this information turning out to be useful, but he made a note of it just in case he turned out to be wrong.</p><p>“I wouldn’t think that the doctor’s actions prior to this supposed crime would have any relation to said crime,” he pointed out. “Can you please explain how you think the two could be related?”</p><p>“It’s obvious he’s got it out for our village!” cried Posy. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason he took our posting was so that he could tear us apart and watch our community disintegrate!”</p><p>“Bring back National Service is what I say!” Neggy added smugly. “Maybe THAT could have taught that young man some manners!”</p><p>This time, Phoenix didn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes.</p><p>“My question was how his actions were related to the crime, Mr and Mrs Teeve,” he said. “Do they provide a motive?”</p><p>To his relief, neither of the people at the stand came back with an answer. Posy’s bony fingers fiddled with the knot on her headscarf and Neggy gave a thoughtful puff on his pipe, but that was about it.</p><p>“…w-well…” Posy stammered after a while. “…I suppose not.”</p><p>Neggy stared at her in shock.</p><p>“Good gracious, you actually left her speechless!” he exclaimed. “Mr Wright are you sure you wouldn’t mind hanging onto this woman for a few days?”</p><p>“Please don’t!” Trucy whispered hoarsely. “I don’t want my new mom to be old enough to be YOUR mom, Dad!”</p><p>“I wasn’t planning on it!” Phoenix replied, and pretended for a moment that he wasn’t glowing red. “I-In any case, Mr and Mrs Teeve, you felt the need to bring this up because…”</p><p>He almost didn’t bother making a note of that last part. This entire cross-examination felt like it was taking a century.</p><p>“What makes you believe that Dr Wallace has ill intentions towards this Sacred Well?” he asked.</p><p>“Oh, come off it!” huffed Neggy. “For years now, science types have been poking around our well, saying that they’re taking samples and analysing and who knows what other kinds of mumbo-jumbo!”</p><p>Hatred and fear of scientific progress? What on earth was that doing in an electrician?</p><p>Ugh, never mind.</p><p>“The doctor mentioned that the well’s water has been claimed to have healing properties,” Phoenix noted. “Do you think that might be why a man of medicine would want to know more about it?”</p><p>“Oh, please!” was Posy’s response. “That’s what they always say! Do you really expect us to believe a word of it?”</p><p>“We didn’t even see one drop when we went to his office earlier!” Neggy pointed out.</p><p>Phoenix slipped one hand into his pocket so that nobody could see him clenching his fist.</p><p>“You didn’t even go inside,” he muttered through gritted teeth.</p><p>Apparently he hadn’t mumbled quietly enough, because Neggy huffed into his pipe.</p><p>“Well, if you can think of some reason why he would take our water, I’d be delighted to hear it!” he said.</p><p>Hmm… if he hadn’t gone inside the clinic, there was a chance he hadn’t seen Dr Wallace’s best friend, wasn’t there?</p><p>The best friend that the doctor had promised to share his samples with…</p><p>“Ms Skellig,” Phoenix said, “would you object if I requested Mr Teeve add that to his testimony?”</p><p>Michaela just kept smiling, twirling her hair around her finger.</p><p>“I would be interested in seeing what potentially may come of it,” she replied, “so by all means, go ahead and bolster that testimony so that we may press ourselves ever closer to the truth.”</p><p>“Sure thing,” Phoenix said with a nod. “Your Honour?”</p><p>Their judge shook his head.</p><p>“You have no complaints from me, Mr Wright,” he said. “Neggy- I mean, Mr Teeve?”</p><p>Both husband and wife rolled their eyes.</p><p>“I didn’t see any of that water anywhere around his office when we went there earlier,” stated the husband.</p><p>“What on earth was he doing with it?” added the wife.</p><p>There it was.</p><p>Phoenix flipped back to their sparse evidence list just in case he needed to show everyone what he was talking about. If only they had a photo…</p><p>“I can think of <em> one </em> good reason,” he said.</p><p>“Oh, can you?” If he weren’t already smoking, Neggy would be steaming by now. “Then out with it!”</p><p>“Didn’t you notice it?” Phoenix couldn’t avoid a smile of satisfaction. “Or were you so desperate to see this man pilloried that you didn’t think to look?”</p><p>“Look for what?” demanded Posy. “What are you talking about?!”</p><p>Phoenix tapped the eraser end of his pencil on his journal. There was something satisfying about that repetitive <em> thump, thump, thump. </em></p><p>“I’m talking about his bonsai tree,” he said.</p><p>Both old people on the witness stand frowned.</p><p>“His what-now?” asked Neggy.</p><p>“Really, you young people and your ridiculous vocabularies!” Posy sighed. “If you want to sound smart, you don’t have to make up words for it!”</p><p>The urge to snap his pencil in half was uncomfortably strong.</p><p>“Are you serious?” he asked. “I know this village is isolated, but there’s no way you don’t know what a bonsai tree is!”</p><p>“Objection,” said Michaela. “I cannot say I appreciate your tone, Mr Wright, so why don’t you take a deep breath to calm yourself down and tell Uncle Neggy and Auntie Posy what a bonsai tree is?”</p><p>“Fine,” Phoenix sighed. “Okay. Sorry.”</p><p>He made a show of checking the details in his journal.</p><p>“A bonsai is a plant that’s been deliberately kept small by the person growing it,” he explained. “Dr Wallace’s appears to be a cherry tree which he’s grown in the, uh…”</p><p>Dammit, what had he called it again?</p><p>“He said it was <em> shakan</em>, didn’t he?” prompted Trucy.</p><p>“Thank you, sweetie,” said Phoenix. “Dr Wallace has a bonsai tree grown in the <em> shakan </em> style. I don’t think I need to remind you of the fact that plants need water to survive.”</p><p>The couple deflated so fast it was almost laughable. It had been a long time since Phoenix had seen anybody look that defeated that quickly.</p><p>“O-oh…” Posy mumbled.</p><p>“So you <em> aren’t </em> just making up words?” asked Neggy.</p><p>“Objection.” Michaela adjusted her glasses again. “You seem to have forgotten something, Mr Wright; as you have been so kind as to educate Mr and Mrs Teeve on the subject of bonsai trees, may I educate you on the subject of plumbing?”</p><p>Huh? Plumbing?</p><p>Phoenix frowned at the prosecution.</p><p>“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked. “I know what plumbing is!”</p><p>“And yet you seem to have forgotten that every building in this village is plumbed with its own outlets,” Michaela told him, “sinks, toilets, showers, you name it, so do you believe your good doctor could truly not have waited until he reached his clinic to provide water from a sink to his beloved bonsai tree?”</p><p>Phoenix opened his mouth to reply, but then he realised he didn’t know what to say.</p><p>“OBJECTION!” Trucy stamped on the bench hard enough to shake it. “If Dr Wallace’s journey to Aberdeen to catch the bus here was anything like ours, he probably hadn’t had a chance to water his tree in ages!”</p><p>She thrust her best pointing finger towards Michaela.</p><p>“Can you blame him for going to the first water source he could see and using it to keep his tree happy?” she asked.</p><p>Michaela just smiled.</p><p>“He could not have held out for the few moments it would take to walk from the Sacred Well to his clinic?” she said.</p><p>Trucy’s eyes widened in shock. She slowly lowered her hand and stepped off the table.</p><p>“…good point,” she said weakly.</p><p>Phoenix patted her on the shoulder. She’d tried her best, after all.</p><p>“From what I have heard, Mr Wright,” Michaela said as she returned to coiling up her hair, “you and your dear daughter were sighted talking with Dr Wallace while he was still by the Sacred Well’s side, so is there any chance that you could enlighten us as to what he told you he was doing, if indeed he told you?”</p><p>Thinking back, the only things they’d seen had been his tree and his test tubes, right?</p><p>Hmm…</p><p>“He told us he was taking a sample,” Phoenix recalled. “That he’d researched this village and the Sacred Well’s supposed healing properties, and he wanted to run some tests to check the authenticity of those claims.”</p><p>“There! See?” Neggy pointed at Phoenix with his pipe. “That’s exactly what we was talking about! Just another scientist wanting to ruin our village and insult our traditions!”</p><p>“OBJECTION!” This time Trucy refrained from stomping and settled for dramatically pointing. “He said he wanted to use the water on his bonsai tree as well! He didn’t lie about anything and neither did we!”</p><p>“What my daughter says is true,” said Phoenix. “I even recall him moving the tree out of her line of sight when she expressed curiosity about it.”</p><p>He ignored the simmering witnesses and turned to the judge.</p><p>“Your Honour,” he said, “may I ask a question?”</p><p>The judge gave him a nod.</p><p>“Go ahead, Mr Wright,” he said. “As a newcomer to this village, it can only be expected that there are things you wouldn’t know about our people and our way of life.”</p><p>“It’s only one question, Your Honour,” said Phoenix, “and it’s relatively simple.”</p><p>He glanced back at the gallery. If looks could kill, he would have been massacred ten times over by now.</p><p>“Tell me,” he continued regardless. “Does anybody here drink the water from the Sacred Well?”</p><p>The judge ran his fingers through his beard, humming in thought.</p><p>“Not directly,” he replied.</p><p>“The water is used in the growing of Mrs Glass’ fruits and vegetables and the forging of our tools,” Michaela explained, “which also makes use of coal from the mines that once peppered these mountains, but our people are wise enough to know not to directly drink from the Sacred Well unless their need is desperate. Is that not correct, good people?”</p><p>She turned in the direction of the gallery.</p><p>“What she says is true!” someone shouted from towards the back.</p><p>“Our angel knows us so well! I’m honoured!” A woman at the front clasped her hands in glee.</p><p>With this new information, Phoenix scribbled down a fresh entry in his evidence list.</p><p> </p><p><em> Sacred Well </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - A pond in the centre of Fatargan. Some say it has healing properties, but this is unconfirmed. </em></p><p> </p><p>Hmm…</p><p>“But I’ve heard that the Sacred Well can heal and cure people,” he said. “Surely there must be someone who drinks from it on occasion. Heck, why not give some of the water to Mr Oldfart if it’s so effective?”</p><p>“Well…” Michaela adjusted her glasses again. “…erm…” She resumed coiling her hair around her finger. “…hmm.”</p><p>“Personally,” said the judge, “I would assume that because his sickness was caused by medicine-”</p><p>“Exactly!” Posy interjected. “Don’t let this American walk in here and lecture us about our own village!”</p><p>“Posy, dear,” Neggy said without looking in his wife’s direction, “don’t interrupt the legal people while they’re talking.”</p><p>“They aren’t talking!” cried Posy. “They’re insulting! How could this so-called lawyer have come to our village when he knows so little about it?!”</p><p>Phoenix pointed down at Trucy.</p><p>“You’ve got this one to blame for that,” he told them.</p><p>“You’re welcome!” Trucy responded happily.</p><p>“That’s no excuse!” yelled Posy, and she stuck up her nose again. “Honestly, these foreigners coming over here and doing nothing but lay about and try to disrupt our way of life. We’ve been perfectly fine up here in our village without any of you lot barging in here and asking questions about everything!”</p><p>“Posy, darling!” said Neggy. “There’s no harm in it! He’s a curious boy-”</p><p>“Oh, of course <em> you </em>would try to defend him, Neginald,” spat Posy. “Just listen to you, so soft!”</p><p>“He hasn’t done anything to hurt us, Posy!” Neggy pointed out. “Why not let him learn about our village?”</p><p>“If he’s only staying until the next bus, there isn’t any point!” cried Posy.</p><p>Phoenix watched the husband and wife shouting back and forth.</p><p>Nothing they were saying was even slightly relevant to their case, was it?</p><p>He tapped his pencil on his journal and hummed in thought. In spite of the irrelevancy, there was potential here. Maybe… just maybe…</p><p>“Your Honour?”</p><p>“Yes, curious boy?”</p><p>“…I’m twenty-eight…” Phoenix sighed, and pushed that aside with a clearing of his throat. “I request further testimony from the witnesses. I’d like to know how they discovered Mr Oldfart’s condition in the first place.”</p><p>Thank god the judge was nodding. The scheme would be ruined if he didn’t agree.</p><p>“That seems reasonable enough,” the elder man said. “Does Ms Skellig- rather, does the prosecution have any objections?”</p><p>To Phoenix’s relief, Michaela shook her head as well, still smiling that same gentle smile.</p><p>“I am curious to know what Mr Wright is harbouring within the folds of that rather…” She adjusted her glasses. “…interesting jacket of his, so I therefore have no problems with allowing him to continue with his questioning.”</p><p>Phoenix nodded. “Thank you.”</p><p>It seemed like she was onto him, but no way was she going to figure out his plan.</p><p>“What are you up to, Daddy?” Trucy whispered to him.</p><p>He leaned down so that nobody else could hear.</p><p>“It’s pretty clear by now that these people don’t actually know anything about what happened to their friend,” he reminded her. “If we can get the court to see that, we’ve officially made some progress in this farce.”</p><p>“Oooh, okay!” Trucy gasped. “Don’t tell me how you want to do it though. After all, it won’t count as magic if I know the secret!”</p><p>Phoenix straightened back up as, on the stand, Neggy chuckled to himself.</p><p>“This is the most I’ve gotten to speak in years!” he laughed. “This old girl doesn’t half go on if you let her off her leash!”</p><p>“Oh, do give over, Neginald,” Posy complained. “Let’s just get this over with.”</p><p>With the smallest, most unnoticeable smile he could manage, Phoenix pocketed his hands and paid attention to the witness stand, like a good little boy just waiting for class to start.</p><p>He had a feeling this was going to be fun.</p><p>“We was just stepping out for our morning constitutional when dear old Nosie came running out of her house,” Neggy told the court.</p><p>“You should’ve seen the poor dear!” Posy continued. “She was crying her eyes out that her husband had been poisoned!”</p><p>“We’d seen ol’ Wrenkley going into that office yesterday, so-”</p><p>“So it was plain to see either he’d gotten sicker or that doctor had done something awful! He seemed perfectly fine when he went in yesterday, so it’s obvious which of those was the right answer, isn’t it?”</p><p>Again, like a good little boy, Phoenix turned back to the judge.</p><p>“Yes,” said the old man, “I understand why you would come to that conclusion.”</p><p>“Thank you dearly for explaining this to us, Mr and Mrs Teeve,” said Michaela, “as I am sure your testimony will push us closer to finding the truth.”</p><p>“Will it, Daddy?” Trucy whispered.</p><p>Phoenix struggled not to laugh.</p><p>“It won’t,” he replied.</p><p>“So you’re going to pull off a trick to turn it into something useful, huh?”</p><p>“Just you wait and see, sweetie.”</p><p>He made a show of getting his journal and pencil ready for notetaking and forced back a smile as he returned his attention to the witnesses.</p><p>“Do you remember where you were on your constitutional when you encountered Mrs Oldfart?” he asked.</p><p>Neggy took a long puff from his pipe.</p><p>“We had just passed by the old mining lift and were heading for the fountain when we-”</p><p>“Honestly, Neginald, are you really going to insist on calling it that?” Posy interrupted. “Surely you’ve noticed by now!”</p><p>“Noticed what?” asked Neggy. “That this newfangled design is trying its hardest to erase our town’s cultural heritage?”</p><p>“That structure is far more useful as a bell tower than it ever was as a lift! Or have you forgotten how shallow those mines actually ran?”</p><p>“They don’t feel all that shallow when you’re stuck in bed with black lung!”</p><p>“You were a postman! You never got black lung and you know it, you melodramatic-”</p><p>“Order!” The judge slammed his little hammer on his lectern. “Order, please!”</p><p>“Objection,” Michaela said softly. “My friends, I must confess that it saddens me to see you arguing so, and I have to insist that you refrain from exposing this court to your debates, so would you be so kind as to acquiesce to my request?”</p><p>The witness’ faces reddened rapidly.</p><p>“O-of course, Michaela darling.” Posy fiddled with her scarf again.</p><p>“Truly sorry, my dear,” said Neggy, awkwardly puffing on his pipe.</p><p>Phoenix doodled a little flying saucer in his journal.</p><p>“That got us somewhere,” he remarked to Trucy as he doodled.</p><p>“Daddy, did you <em> want </em>that to happen?” Trucy asked.</p><p>“You’ll see, Trucy,” said Phoenix. “You’ll see.”</p><p>As far as the rest of the court was concerned, he had been taking notes on the cross-examination. He gritted his teeth to keep himself from smiling.</p><p>“Do you remember exactly what Mrs Oldfart said?” he asked.</p><p>“Oh, I remember it perfectly!” said Posy. “She said ‘that new doctor’s poisoned my husband!’”</p><p>“You didn’t remember it perfectly, Posy,” Neggy retorted. “She said ‘that out-of-town doctor’s poisoned my husband.’”</p><p>“What does it matter? The simple fact is that she said Wrenkley had been poisoned!”</p><p>“It matters because we’re in a court of law! Do you have room for <em> anything </em> in that head of yours other than gossip?”</p><p>“Do <em> you </em> have room for anything in <em> your </em> head besides complaints about how much the world changed while you were busy sitting around in your armchair?”</p><p>“It’s important that I maintain my tools, Posy! I’m no spring chicken anymore! Do you really expect me to stay standing while I polish my screwdrivers and lubricate my-”</p><p>“Polish smolish! I see you sitting there, day after day, and you’ve never once pulled out your toolkit! Unless the newspaper crosswords somehow help you sort out wiring problems?”</p><p>“I need my time to recuperate and you know it!”</p><p>“Order!” The judge’s slamming was far louder and more desperate this time. “Order, you two! Can I please reiterate that you should keep these matters private?!”</p><p>Posy and Neggy, once again, flushed in embarrassment.</p><p>“…sorry, Your Honour,” said Neggy.</p><p>“Sorry, Angus dear,” said Posy.</p><p>Phoenix drew an evilly grinning Edgeworth piloting the flying saucer.</p><p>“Is this your plan, Daddy?” asked Trucy. “To get these two to have a blazing row on the witness stand?”</p><p>“Sorry, Trucy,” Phoenix replied as he finished the last frill. “Not revealing this trick until it’s complete.”</p><p>He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun.</p><p>“Did Mr Oldfart enter and leave his appointment alone?” he asked.</p><p>“Well,” said Posy, “Nosie was sitting in the waiting room and we had a chat with her before and during, but she didn’t go in there with him or-”</p><p>“Heaven’s sake, Posy,” sighed Neggy. “Just say he went in there by himself! Do you really love the sound of your voice so much that you have to use as many words as possible for such a simple statement?”</p><p>“Some of us actually like speaking to people, Neginald. We don’t just shut ourselves up in our living rooms and waste away in front of an electric fire that I <em> still </em> say was a waste of money!”</p><p>“It’s economic, love! More economic to pay for a fire you <em> know </em> is going to work as opposed to paying for wood that’ll get damp when the weather turns, and you <em> know </em> how often it turns!”</p><p>“Not my fault you refuse to pay for firelighters! I keep telling you how useful they are! Carol up the road says her George uses them all the time and they never struggle to light their fires!”</p><p>“Carol up the road thinks she can talk to her sister through some two-way television! What does she know about lighting fires?!”</p><p>“It isn’t my fault you’re an electrician who refuses to learn what the internet is! Honestly, Neginald! When are you going to start paying attention to the world around you?”</p><p>“How am I supposed to learn how <em> any </em> of that bollocks works?!”</p><p>“Watch your language! There are CHILDREN in this hall!”</p><p>“They’re going to learn these words sooner or later!”</p><p>“<em> Objection.</em>”</p><p>At the sound of Michaela’s voice, the bickering pair fell silent.</p><p>Posy let out a gasp of horror.</p><p>Neggy swallowed.</p><p>Phoenix, meanwhile, drew a flailing Steel Samurai in the flying saucer’s tractor beam.</p><p>When he looked up, Michaela wasn’t smiling anymore.</p><p>“Mr and Mrs Teeve,” she said softly, “you have been warned twice now to save your arguing for when the two of you are in private, and yet you still wish to continue to use your testimony and cross-examination as an opportunity to air your dirty laundry?”</p><p>Phoenix had been about to snap his journal shut, but upon remembering Dr Wallace’s prior reaction, he settled for gently closing it and resting it on the tabletop instead.</p><p>“Ms Skellig,” he said, and looked up at the judge, “Your Honour, I think it’s become clear by now that Mr and Mrs Teeve should never have been called in the first place.”</p><p>He couldn’t resist it. He slammed one hand down on their bench.</p><p>“They claim to have witnessed this supposed malpractice,” he continued, “but it’s become clear by now that, if you’ll excuse my language, they didn’t witness <em> squat</em>. I hereby propose that this entire cross-examination be stricken from the record.”</p><p>The judge gave a nod of agreement.</p><p>“Indeed,” he said. “I feel awful for saying this about two such close friends of our community, but it seems to me that this has all been a waste of the court’s time.”</p><p>He lowered a stern glare to the witness stand.</p><p>“Mr and Mrs Teeve,” he said, “you are dismissed.”</p><p>“What?!” Posy ripped the scarf clear off her head, taking several rollers with it and letting loose an explosion of frizzy grey hair. “How dare you! You can’t allow this outsider who doesn’t know <em> anything </em> about our village to dictate how this should go!”</p><p>“I’m an outsider who passed the bar exam,” Phoenix pointed out. “You’re an insider who <em> didn’t</em>.”</p><p>He rested his hands in his pockets and cast a glance at Trucy, who responded with a delighted thumb’s-up.</p><p>Neggy, meanwhile, lowered his pipe in defeat.</p><p>“It’s no trouble,” he said meekly. “We’ll go.”</p><p>“Ugh, Neginald! Grow some backbone!” Posy followed her husband as he turned away from the witness stand.</p><p>“Grow some common sense, Posy!” Neginald retorted. “I’m not having us arrested for contempt of court!”</p><p>The gallery was silent as they watched the couple walk to the hall’s main entryway, bickering and sniping at each other the entire way, with Posy making limp attempts to hit Neggy with a scarf too soft and thin to do anything other than flutter about.</p><p>As soon as they disappeared through those doors, the entire court became quiet.</p><p>Phoenix took one fist out of his pocket and held it out to Trucy, who bumped her own fist against it.</p><p>The judge, meanwhile, cleared his throat.</p><p>“So then…” he said awkwardly. “Where does this leave us?”</p><p>Phoenix raised a hand for attention.</p><p>“The defence stands by a plea of Not Guilty, Your Honour,” he stated. “If the prosecution has nothing further to add-”</p><p>“Objection.”</p><p>How could a woman with such a soft voice speak in a way that commanded so much presence?!</p><p>She was turned in Phoenix’s direction, still seemingly with her eyes closed, and adjusted her glasses with the return of her gentle smile.</p><p>“It just so happens that we do,” she said.</p><p>And normally, when a prosecutor told him that, Phoenix knew exactly what they meant.</p><p>“Another witness, huh?” he asked just to be sure.</p><p>“Indeed,” Michaela confirmed. “One who is more qualified than any other person in this court to explain to us how all of this came to be.”</p><p>“Hold it!”</p><p>Nobody, not even those closest to it in the gallery, had noticed the hall’s door opening and closing for a second time. Now, however, all eyes turned to the latest person to approach the witness stand, who stood with a coy smile and one hand on the brim of his hat.</p><p>“My apologies to the prosecution,” he said, “but I highly doubt that.”</p><p>Now that he had spoken again, the gallery started buzzing.</p><p>“Who is that?!”</p><p>“He looks familiar! Wasn’t he on TV the other night?”</p><p>“Yes, I swear I saw him on Time Team! What was his name?”</p><p>“Nice to see you again, Professor,” said Phoenix. “I trust everything went well?”</p><p>“Hold it,” Michaela said before anybody else had a chance to speak. “I would request that the defence explain to the court just who this newcomer is.”</p><p>Phoenix pointed a thumb at Layton.</p><p>“This guy’s been investigating the crime scene on our behalf,” he explained. “He’s here to help us clear this mess up.”</p><p>Movement off to one side caught his eye; when he looked to check it out, he found that the judge was shaking his head.</p><p>“I can’t say I’m certain about this, but…” He cleared his throat and looked out at the rest of the room. “With this new arrival and the prosecution’s desire to call a new witness, I hereby suggest a twenty-minute recess for both sides’ preparation.”</p><p>He slammed his little hammer on his lectern.</p><p>“Court is adjourned.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Frozen Court part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Phoenix rubbed his face with a sigh.</p><p>“Okay, we don’t have long,” he said, picking the dust out of his eyes and leaning against the building’s wall. “<em>Please </em> tell me you’ve got something for us.”</p><p>“Um, before we do…” Luke shifted on his feet with his hands behind his back. “Dr Wallace?”</p><p>“Mm-hm?” was the only sound the doctor made.</p><p>“You were so anxious about your bonsai tree, so…”</p><p>Luke brought his hands into view, revealing that he was clutching a familiar porcelain pot in his fingers.</p><p>“Oh, <em> thank god</em>.” Dr Wallace snatched the pot out of the teen’s hands and hugged it to his chest. “It was killing me not knowing if it was okay!”</p><p>“See, Doc?” said Trucy. “You didn’t have to worry about anything! Stefan’s doing great!”</p><p>“Stefan?” Luke asked with a frown.</p><p>“The name he picked for his tree!” Trucy replied. “Cute, right?”</p><p>The Professor adjusted the brim of his hat with that familiar friendly smile.</p><p>“It’s a very beautiful plant, Doctor,” he said. “You have every right to be concerned for it.”</p><p>Dr Wallace ran his fingers over the bonsai tree’s branches with the kind of tenderness usually reserved for the gentlest of lovers. The leaves trembled as a cold breeze washed across the hill and he cradled the pot as though it were his child.</p><p>“Thank you,” he sighed.</p><p>Phoenix resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Was it really so hard to keep on track with what they were <em> supposed </em> to be doing?</p><p>“At the moment, however,” said Layton, “we have far more important things to worry about.”</p><p>Oh thank god. At least there was <em> one </em> person who knew how to stay focused.</p><p>The doctor, however, was frowning.</p><p>“Did you dig through my files?” he asked.</p><p>Luke tugged at his scarf.</p><p>“I hate to admit it,” he said, “but we had to.”</p><p>Phoenix pushed himself away from the wall and straightened up. This godforsaken trial was getting more frustrating by the second.</p><p>“I understand that doctor-patient confidentiality is important,” he said to Dr Wallace, “and there’s probably a whole bunch of legal things about it that I don’t know about, because I’m American and an idiot, but this could literally end up being a matter of life and death.”</p><p>Dr Wallace’s eyes seemed to flash with venom for a moment.</p><p>“Mr Wright, this day has already been stressful enough,” he replied. “I don’t need your childish exaggerations on top of everything else.”</p><p>Phoenix slipped one hand into his pocket so that nobody could see him clenching his fist.</p><p>“With all due respect, Doc,” he said, “the last time I stood trial in a place like this, they literally threw people into fire pits. What I’ve seen of these people’s feelings towards you has me thinking they aren’t that different.”</p><p>He glanced up at movement in the corner of his eye; Luke was grimacing, clearly uncomfortable at the memories Phoenix had dredged up, and Layton was frowning in accompaniment.</p><p>Never mind. They weren’t important right now.</p><p>“If you don’t want to be thrown into…” Phoenix waved his hand, searching for a good comparison. “…I don’t know, some kind of ice pit, you’ll have to tell us what happened in yesterday’s appointment with Mr Oldfart.”</p><p>The doctor was frowning too. It wasn’t easy to blame him; trials that ended in violent witch burnings weren’t exactly in the realm of the sane.</p><p>He fiddled with one of his bonsai’s leaves and turned to look at the pair of English gentlemen.</p><p>“I’m curious to know what these two found out first.”</p><p>Good <em> lord </em> was that an accusatory tone.</p><p>“Very well,” said Layton, either not noticing or not caring about the doctor’s antagonistic demeanour. “I’m grateful to you for your organisational skills, Dr Wallace. Luke was able to find your data from yesterday far more easily than I worried he might.”</p><p>“You hacked my computer?!” cried Dr Wallace.</p><p>“Your password is ‘bonsai’ with a 0 and a 1 instead of O and I,” Luke responded. “It wasn’t all that hard to guess.”</p><p>Dr Wallace looked down at his pot with a guilty frown.</p><p>“…that’s fair,” he said weakly.</p><p>“I printed out everything I could find about your appointments yesterday.” Luke snapped his satchel open and rummaged around. “Mr Oldfart, was it? Let me see…”</p><p>“As Mr Wright said,” added Layton as Luke dug into his bag, “you need to tell us everything you can. Although if this village had a fire pit, I fail to see why the citizens would use it for executions instead of heating.”</p><p>“Yes, I know,” Dr Wallace groaned, “but I don’t know what you expect me to tell you. The appointment was just…” He rubbed his tired eyes. “…just standard. Nothing special at all!”</p><p>“Oh, here we are!”</p><p>Luke whipped a sheath of papers out of his satchel and held it up for all to see.</p><p>“Let me see!” cried Trucy.</p><p>She ran over to Luke, who kneeled down so that she could see what was on the papers, but frowned before her eyes had scanned even halfway down the page.</p><p>“…ibboo… proffen?” she read aloud. “What’s ibbooproffen?”</p><p>“Hang on…” Phoenix kneeled down beside her and read over her shoulder. “I think that’s pronounced ‘ibuprofen’, sweetie.”</p><p>“Only ibuprofen?” asked Layton. “You prescribed an off-the-shelf painkiller?”</p><p>Phoenix looked over the page he and Trucy were holding. The prescription details specified four hundred milligrams of ibuprofen and said that this was two pills, to be taken at intervals of a minimum of six hours. The patient’s name was Wrenkley Oldfart, doctor’s name was Bill Wallace, there was even a timestamp noting the last time these details had been edited at 5:29pm… everything was in order. Just like the doctor had said. Nothing strange whatsoever.</p><p>“Look, I asked all the questions I was supposed to ask, alright?” said Dr Wallace. “Everything he told me lined up with your common-or-garden migraine, so I prescribed him standard painkillers and told him to come back the next day if his symptoms persisted. That’s <em> it</em>. I have no idea where this crowd of complaints came from and I just want to get back to my clinic and do my goddamn job!”</p><p>Phoenix heard Layton hum in thought as he opened his journal to their near-empty evidence list and scrawled another entry:</p><p> </p><p><em> Appointment details </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> Notes on Mr Oldfart’s appointment. Prescription was 400mg of ibuprofen (2 pills). Last edited at 5:29pm. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Mr Wright,” said the Professor, “could you tell me what’s happened in the trial so far?”</p><p>Phoenix closed his journal gently, remembering again how much the doctor had disliked it snapping shut. Sure, they were outside and the sound wouldn’t really resonate, but the last thing he wanted was to upset his client.</p><p>“We’ve been here for about an hour so far,” he said as he straightened up. “It feels more like five hours and we’ve gained about five minutes’ worth of information.”</p><p>“There were these witnesses who just stood on the stand and complained the whole time!” cried Trucy, crossing her arms like a stern teacher. “They didn’t even witness anything! They ended up arguing with each other on the stage! I thought the trial was going to stop being malpractice and turn into divorce!”</p><p>“Nobody’s said what symptoms the victim is exhibiting,” Dr Wallace explained. “For all I know, he could have contracted Black Death. If somebody would just say exactly how this man was supposedly ‘poisoned’ this nightmare might get a little more bearable.”</p><p>Layton rubbed his chin with another little hum of thought as Luke slotted the papers back into his satchel.</p><p>“Is it possible he overdosed?” asked the Professor. “Maybe he took too many pills?”</p><p>Phoenix found himself thinking back on what the prosecutor had said. A new witness who was more qualified than anybody else…</p><p>This could get troublesome.</p><p>“That could be possible,” he said. “I have a feeling who our next witness could be, so the next part of this trial might <em> finally </em> fill in some of these holes. The fact that everybody’s just throwing around ‘malpractice’ and ‘poisoned’ rather than stating any symptoms is…” He sighed and rubbed his head under his hat. “…it’s annoying, to say the least.”</p><p>“It wouldn’t surprise me if he <em> did </em>overdose,” said Dr Wallace. “Sometimes people get impatient. They take a pill, don’t feel its effects, take another pill and still don’t feel anything, and then everything kicks in all at once and suddenly you’re plunged into the time vortex with no hope of a TARDIS.”</p><p>He jabbed a thumb in the courtroom’s direction.</p><p>“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I told him to take two pills with supper and that was <em> it</em>. That’s 400mg. The only reason anybody would have a bad reaction is if they had some undiagnosed allergy to one of the ingredients.”</p><p>“Could that be a possibility?” asked Layton. “There’s a chance Mr Oldfart was simply allergic to one of the ingredients and had never known it.”</p><p>Dr Wallace shook his head.</p><p>“I don’t think so,” he replied. “He told me he’d taken ibuprofen only a week or two ago. That was the main reason I prescribed it. I’ve never known an allergy to develop that quickly, especially to an off-the-shelf medication.”</p><p>Phoenix forced himself to tuck his pencil back behind his ear rather than itching to write more things down.</p><p>“We can’t rule any of this out,” he pointed out, “but I struggle to believe you would write the wrong thing on your prescriptions.”</p><p>“It says right on there!” Luke pointed at his satchel. “Ibuprofen, 400mg!”</p><p>“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” asked Phoenix. “So either he OD’d, developed an allergy out of nowhere or…”</p><p>No. He didn’t want to say it. It was too ridiculous to be seriously considered.</p><p>“Oh my gosh,” Trucy gasped below him, “you think they’re <em> lying? </em>”</p><p>Well, at least she had saved her dad the trouble of saying what he was thinking.</p><p>“When the answer is elusive, all factors must be considered,” said Layton, holding up a finger like a childish stereotype of a scholar, “but we should never doubt that every puzzle has an answer.”</p><p>He crossed his arms with a frown.</p><p>“Even if that answer is utterly absurd,” he added, “it’s an answer nonetheless.”</p><p>Dr Wallace frowned right back at him.</p><p>“Why do I get the feeling you’re speaking from experience when you say the answer is absurd?” he asked.</p><p>Now the Professor was smiling, and Luke laughed beside him with a flush of embarrassment.</p><p>“You have <em> no </em> idea!” the teen exclaimed.</p><p>Before either of them could elaborate on just what that meant, there was a knock on the door behind them.</p><p>“Just so you all know,” said the voice of Jack the innkeeper, “we’re reconvening in a moment.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Phoenix said without looking round. “We’ll be right there.”</p><p>“I leave the rest in your capable hands, Mr Wright,” said Layton with yet another smile and tip of his hat.</p><p>“No, wait!”</p><p>Trucy jumped to get everyone’s attention.</p><p>“Come join us!” she cried. “Join the defence!”</p><p>“Huh?” Luke frowned, nonplussed.</p><p>“What?” Phoenix reached for his daughter’s shoulder. “Trucy-”</p><p>“They’re more likely to believe you aren’t making stuff up if the Professor is there to share what he and Luke found out!” Trucy spun around to make her point to her dad. “Plus they’re British too!”</p><p>“Uh…” Luke tugged at his scarf again. “I hate to say it, but not all British people are friends with each other. Especially English and Scottish. I, um…” He looked over one shoulder at the village spread out below them. “I’m not sure if they’ve ever really forgiven us for Edward Longshanks.”</p><p>The Professor, however, was still smiling.</p><p>“That doesn’t mean we’ll be unable to help,” he pointed out. “Your daughter makes a valid point, Mr Wright, and I would be delighted to assist you again.”</p><p>That look in his dark eyes… That was hope, wasn’t it?</p><p>And with three other people here, there was no way to turn him down without looking like a jerk, was there?</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t restrain another sigh.</p><p>“Alright,” he said. “Fine. If we can fit you both behind what passes for a bench, then fine.”</p><p>“We’d better go!” said Luke. “I don’t want us all to get in trouble for being late!”</p><p>Phoenix tried to contain his enthusiasm.</p><p>“…yeah,” he said.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The judge tapped his little silver hammer on his lectern, silencing the idle gossip in the gallery.</p><p>“Court will now reconvene,” he declared.</p><p>“Hey, Professor?” Trucy leaned over to whisper to the elder of the defence’s newcomers. “Do you know what that little silver hammer the judge uses is called? It probably has a name but I don’t know what it is.”</p><p>Layton smiled again.</p><p>“That, young lady, is a toffee hammer,” he explained. “As the name suggests, they are typically used for breaking up hard toffee.”</p><p>He looked up at the lectern where the hammer in question now rested.</p><p>“I suppose they couldn’t find a gavel on such short notice,” he pondered, “or perhaps they didn’t have one to begin with. This <em> is </em>a rather small and isolated village.”</p><p>At the sound of a faint giggle, Phoenix looked across the hall at the prosecution’s bench.</p><p>“Mr Wright,” said the woman standing behind it, “I must confess that I am a little disappointed, as you have a pair of new friends with you at the defence’s bench and yet you have not thought to provide them with a proper introduction.”</p><p>“Ah, my apologies.” Layton tipped his hat to Michaela. “My name is Hershel Layton; I’m a professor of archaeology at Gressenheller University in London.”</p><p>No sooner had he finished talking than the gallery erupted into hushed gossips again.</p><p>“Professor Layton! I <em> knew </em> I’d seen his face somewhere before!”</p><p>“He <em> was </em> on Time Team! I thought I’d just dreamed that!”</p><p>“Gosh, Marjorie. It’s true what they say about cameras being unflattering, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Isn’t it just, Georgina? Goodness, if I were only twenty years younger…”</p><p>Layton’s smile faded, and his apprentice grimaced in distaste.</p><p>“…ew,” the poor boy cringed.</p><p>“Your Honour,” Phoenix spoke up to quieten the stalkerish chatter, “I recommend we recommence proceedings immediately before my co-counsels leave in discomfort.”</p><p>Michaela, however, clasped her hands in blatant glee.</p><p>“It is truly a delight to meet the fabled Professor Layton,” she said happily, “and I assume the young man beside you is a student of yours?”</p><p>“Student?!” cried Luke. “I’m Luke Triton, the Professor’s apprentice!”</p><p>“Are you truly?” Michaela adjusted her glasses. “It is simply that I cannot recall ever hearing about you in any of the great number of newspaper articles that I have seen regarding Professor Layton, nor is yours a face I have ever seen before today, so do forgive me if I doubt the authenticity of your claims, young man.”</p><p>Luke growled in response.</p><p>Phoenix, on the other hand, sighed again.</p><p>“Your Honour,” he said, looking up at the judge, “please?”</p><p>To his relief, the judge nodded in agreement.</p><p>“Of course, Mr Wright,” he said, and looked down at the prosecution’s bench. “Alright, Michaela- my apologies.” He cleared his throat. “Ms Skellig, is your next witness prepared?”</p><p>“She is, Your Honour,” Michaela replied, “and I believe she shall be more than capable of clearing up any doubts that remain in the defence’s mind regarding our new doctor’s guilt in this terrible matter, so please allow me to welcome a treasured member of our community to the stand.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She carried none of the stench of tobacco that had permeated from Mr Teeve when he had taken the stand, but her fingers cradled a long, silver cigarette holder with a cigarette slotted into its end. Her hat was a stump-like cap of downy feathers, echoing the fluffy down of her heavy-looking coat, and the dead animal draped around her skinny neck was a dirty shade of orange.</p><p>When she took a pull from her cigarette holder, she didn’t blow out any smoke.</p><p>For whatever reason, this didn’t strike Michaela as strange.</p><p>“Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself to the court by way of your name and profession?” she asked.</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>Luke thrust his finger in the witness stand’s direction.</p><p>“I know I haven’t been in a lot of trials before,” he stated, “but I’m pretty sure the witnesses aren’t allowed to smoke on the stand!”</p><p>The witness in question rolled her eyes with a sigh.</p><p>“You aren’t going to take this brat seriously, are you, Michaela?” she demanded.</p><p>Michaela shook her head as Luke lowered his finger in crestfallen defeat.</p><p>“If it will allow the witness to be more comfortable in her testimony,” the prosecutor said, “I request that she be allowed to carry whatever she desires, but I do also request that she give her name and occupation for the newcomers to our dear little town.”</p><p>The woman puffed again on her scentless – and apparently smokeless – cigarette holder.</p><p>“I am Nosetta Oldfart,” she declared, “the wife of our town’s chicken farmer, Wrenkley Oldfart. To my friends, I am Nosie. To <em> you</em>,” she pointed her cigarette holder at the defence bench, “I am Mrs Oldfart.”</p><p>She rested one hand on her hip, or presumably where her hip was under the mass of fluff she wore over her body.</p><p>“Um…” Trucy tugged on Phoenix’s sleeve. “…what’s that thing on her neck?”</p><p>“I think it’s a fox-skin scarf,” Phoenix replied.</p><p>“That poor fox!” Trucy gasped.</p><p>“I don’t even want to know how the chickens feel about it,” said Phoenix.</p><p>“Hm,” Layton said thoughtfully. “That reminds me of a puzzle…”</p><p>While Luke buried his face in embarrassment, Phoenix turned his attention back to the proceedings.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart,” said Michaela, somehow missing that friendly smile, “I understand that this must be a very difficult time for you, but I am afraid I must ask you to tell this court about what happened to your darling husband, so that we may understand just how terribly Dr Wallace’s actions have affected you.”</p><p>Nosie twirled her cigarette holder in her fingers.</p><p>Was that thing even lit?</p><p>“If you wish me to be honest,” she huffed, “I can barely stand to be in the same room as such a monster. Look at him! Look at him sitting there watching us!”</p><p>Phoenix obediently looked over at his client, who simply sat in his chair, cradling his tree.</p><p>“Who knows which one of us he could be plotting against now?” cried Nosie.</p><p>The doctor just shrugged.</p><p>Mrs Oldfart, however, scowled at him.</p><p>“We don’t know if there was any plotting to begin with,” Phoenix interjected before this turned into yet another murder case. “That’s what you’re here for, Mrs Oldfart. You’re here to help us clear this up.”</p><p>“Ugh!” Nosie gasped in shock. “The <em> nerve </em> of these foreigners!”</p><p>“Nerve?” Luke leaned forward with a scowl of his own. “I thought he was rather polite!”</p><p>“Well, of course you would,” Nosie said. “What are you, now? A millennial? Generation Z? Some other ridiculous designation you’ve conjured up for yourself for some petty sense of superiority?”</p><p>Luke growled again, his hands curling into fists on the bench.</p><p>“Don’t pay attention, Luke.” The Professor gently pressed the teen away from the bench. “If you let her get a rise out of you, you’ll only be playing into her hands.”</p><p>“Yup,” said Phoenix. “I’m pretty sure that’s one of the rules of the courtroom: never let your witnesses intimidate you, no matter how stuck up they are.”</p><p>He looked back at Nosie just in time to see her take another pull from her cigarette holder and blow out absolutely no smoke whatsoever. There was no way that thing was lit.</p><p>“Anyway, Mrs Oldfart,” said Michaela, “if you would?”</p><p>“Hmph!” Nosie jiggled her cigarette holder again. “This is barely even worth my time. Just arrest the man and have done with it, I say.”</p><p>Phoenix gritted his teeth as he prepared his journal and pencil for note taking.</p><p>Not that this was anything new, of course. If he had a penny for every time a witness had treated him like garbage, he could’ve taken Trucy to Disneyworld like she had originally wanted.</p><p>Nosie turned her attention to the court at long last.</p><p>“I hadn’t thought anything was amiss yesterday when Wrenkley and I left the clinic,” she explained, “nor did anything seem strange when we climbed the hill to Bedfordshire last night.”</p><p>She sucked on her holder again.</p><p>“He had taken his medication just as Dr Wallace had prescribed,” she continued, “and yet I was awoken in the early hours of this morning by the most tremendous cries of pain! My poor husband is sickened to the point of being unable to leave his bed and it’s all that dreadful doctor’s fault!”</p><p>Another penny for witnesses who loved the sound of their own voices, Phoenix thought, and he could’ve taken Trucy to Disneyland <em> and </em>Disneyworld.</p><p>Michaela, contrary to Phoenix’s annoyance, was smiling and twirling her hair around her finger.</p><p>“It must have taken a great deal of courage for you to stand before the court and tell us this, Mrs Oldfart,” she said, “and I commend you wholeheartedly for your bravery in even setting foot in this courtroom this morning.”</p><p>Phoenix hoped neither of them noticed his frown.</p><p>“Something tells me she isn’t as scared as you’re making her out to be,” he muttered to himself.</p><p>“Nevertheless,” said Layton, “I don’t think I need to point out the contradiction in her testimony for you, Mr Wright.”</p><p>Mr Wright took a deep breath.</p><p>“Well, uh…” he said hesitantly. “…we’ll see.”</p><p>“You’re doing great so far, Daddy!” Trucy whispered hoarsely.</p><p>“And we’re right here if you need help, Mr Wright!” added Luke.</p><p>Phoenix bit back the scathing comment he longed to make about how nobody was putting him under any pressure whatsoever and how grateful he was for it.</p><p>“…thanks,” he said instead.</p><p>At least he could assure himself that this was far from the most maddening person he had ever cross-examined.</p><p>He cleared his throat to gain Nosie’s attention.</p><p>“What time was it when you left the clinic?” he asked. “Do you remember?”</p><p>“I fail to see how that could be relevant,” Nosie replied, “but very well.”</p><p>She puffed on her unlit cigarette again.</p><p>“I estimate it to have been at around half past five in the afternoon,” she said.</p><p>Phoenix flipped back to the appointment details he’d jotted down. It seemed right, but…</p><p>“That’s quite late for a clinic to be open for appointments, isn’t it?” he asked.</p><p>Nosie rolled her eyes again.</p><p>“This is hardly a large town, you idiotic American,” she spat. “Just how busy would you have expected a doctor’s clinic to become? It hardly matters if they cut into the evening.”</p><p>“It still seems a little strange though,” Luke said by Phoenix’s side. “A doctor’s appointment that late in the afternoon? When on earth did they have their supper?”</p><p>“It’s possible they had anticipated the eventuality, Luke,” Layton pointed out. “Perhaps they simply reheated some food from the previous night?”</p><p>“Hmph!” Nosie huffed. “What business is it of yours?”</p><p>“I wonder if the King’s Arms does deliveries?” Trucy pondered, thoughtfully tapping her chin.</p><p>Phoenix tried so, <em> so </em>hard not to grind his teeth.</p><p>“I’m not sure if any of this is important,” he said, “so let’s move on.”</p><p>He made a note of what Mrs Oldfart had told him all the same, but then his eyes fell upon the next part of her testimony that he had hurriedly jotted down.</p><p>“What exactly does that mean?” he asked.</p><p>Nosie’s beady eyes fixed him with a glare.</p><p>“What exactly do <em> you </em>mean?” she demanded.</p><p>“Climbed the hill to Bedfordshire?” Phoenix elaborated. “I didn’t think there were any other towns or villages around here, let alone called Bedfordshire. Isn’t this village totally isolated except for, like, one bus?”</p><p>Yet another sigh and roll of the eyes. Didn’t this woman know any other way to communicate?</p><p>“Ridiculous,” she said. “You Americans. The least you could do before coming to our country is learn our colloquialisms!”</p><p>“I believe she was saying that she and her husband were going to bed,” Layton explained.</p><p>Phoenix’s jaw dropped.</p><p>“But why did she have to phrase it like that?!” he almost yelled.</p><p>“I guess she just wanted to,” Luke said with a shrug.</p><p>“Maybe she wanted to test you to see how much English slang you know!” Trucy suggested.</p><p>“In the middle of a cross-examination?” Phoenix rubbed his head again. “Give me a break…”</p><p>“Hmph!” Nosie huffed yet again. “Thank you very much for proving me correct, you insufferable millennial!”</p><p>Phoenix could feel heat swelling into his face and hoped his cheeks weren't turning red enough for other members of the court to notice.</p><p>“So nothing happened all evening?” he asked, forcibly ungritting his teeth. “Your husband was totally fine?”</p><p>And yet again, Nosie rolled her eyes.</p><p>“For what it’s worth, nothing was amiss,” she explained. “All of my dear Wrenkley’s symptoms developed during the night, while he was sleeping, and I didn’t believe the doctor was responsible at first.”</p><p>Oh, now <em> that </em> was something they could work with. Phoenix noted down what she had told him and checked her testimony to see what to ask next.</p><p>“So why did you suspect Dr Wallace was responsible for your husband’s sickness?” he asked.</p><p>For the first time all morning, Nosie didn’t reply with something scathing. She simply tapped the end of her cigarette holder against her pursed lips, clearly deep in thought, eyes narrowed and darting around the room.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you don’t even know,” Phoenix sighed.</p><p>“Oh no,” Luke groaned. “If it turns out she just wanted somebody to blame…”</p><p>“I can’t quite put my finger on it,” Nosie said at last, “but I knew something was wrong the moment I took a look at his prescription.”</p><p>Phoenix flipped back to the note he had made about the appointment details, but he couldn’t see anything wrong. 400mg of ibuprofen? There wasn’t anything wrong with that. At this rate, he had a feeling he was going to need this prescription for himself by the time this day was over.</p><p>“I have that prescription with me right now, Mr Wright,” Michaela cut into his thoughts, “if you wish to take a look at the evidence of this terrible man’s wrongdoing with your own, untainted eyes.”</p><p>Part of Phoenix wished he could steal Dr Wallace’s composure.</p><p>“You didn’t have to phrase it like that,” he said, “but sure.”</p><p>Michaela nodded, still wearing that faint smile, and walked across the hall to personally deliver the slip of paper into Phoenix’s hand. She presented it to him as though offering the world’s most valuable treasure, but Phoenix let Trucy be the one to accept it because with his mood at that moment, there was no way he’d be able to resist crushing it in his fist.</p><p>“Okay,” he sighed as Michaela walked away, “let’s have a look.”</p><p>Everything looked in order. Dr Wallace’s signature at the bottom, beside the patient’s signature, notes about what the medication was needed for…</p><p>“There’s certainly something odd about this prescription,” said Layton. “Do you see it, Luke?”</p><p>“I think I do, but…” Luke trailed off.</p><p>Then Phoenix noticed it. Right there in the medication details. He flipped back to his evidence list and jotted down a new entry:</p><p> </p><p><em> OG Prescription </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Instructions for Wrenkley Oldfart’s medication: 4000mg of ibuprofen (20 pills) </em></p><p> </p><p>“…but that <em> can’t </em> be right!” cried Luke.</p><p>“Ssh! Not so loud!” Trucy whispered hoarsely. “I don’t think anybody else noticed!”</p><p>Phoenix looked at his note on the appointment details again. 400mg of ibuprofen was 2 pills, wasn’t it? But this prescription… there were a couple of zeroes that definitely did <em> not </em> belong there.</p><p>“Yeah, I see it now,” he said, and straightened up before the defence’s little gathering started to look suspicious. “Your Honour?”</p><p>“Yes, Mr Wright?” asked the judge.</p><p>“I would like Mrs Oldfart to add the details regarding her husband’s prescription to her testimony.”</p><p>“Very well. Nosie, if you would?”</p><p>Nosie tutted, fidgeting with her holder again.</p><p>“Only because you asked kindly, Angus,” she said. “Wrenkley took 4000mg of ibuprofen, just like Dr Wallace had recommended.”</p><p>Phoenix only needed to look in Luke’s direction for the boy to open up his satchel. With a satisfied smile, he turned back to the witness stand.</p><p>“And therein lies the rub,” he said.</p><p>“Hmm?” Nosie glared at him down the length of her nose. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>Still smiling, Phoenix held out his hand to Luke, who rested the papers in his waiting fingers. Phoenix held up the printout for all the court to see.</p><p>“I have here a printout of the details Dr Wallace had noted down,” he explained, “regarding his patient and the prescription he had written…”</p><p>He slammed the papers on their bench.</p><p>“…for four <em> hundred </em>milligrams of ibuprofen.”</p><p>“I beg your pardon?!” Nosie cried in horror.</p><p>The Professor reached across the bench and pulled the papers close enough for him to read.</p><p>“The details don’t lie, Mrs Oldfart,” he said calmly. “This information was printed from the clinic’s office computer and brought directly from here to this hall. I can promise you now that none of us modified these details in any way, shape or form.”</p><p>He held up the papers and pointed at the note about the dosage.</p><p>“The prescription you provided to the court was incorrect,” he stated.</p><p>Nosie gave a shuddering gasp and flipped her cigarette holder around in her fingers. Before Phoenix even realised what she was doing, she chomped down on the cigarette and bit it in two.</p><p>She <em> ate </em> half of the cigarette.</p><p>No, wait, was it a candy cigarette? Did she seriously put one of those in a posh silver holder?!</p><p>“Interesting,” said Michaela, who apparently didn’t think any of this was strange. “Mrs Oldfart, do you know anything about this?”</p><p>“O-of course not!” Nosie removed the half-eaten cigarette and replaced it with a fresh one. “I swear I didn’t know a thing about this!”</p><p>“OBJECTION!” Luke slammed both of his hands down on the bench hard enough to shake it. “It isn’t possible for you to have NOT known something was wrong with this, Mrs Oldfart!”</p><p>He snatched up the prescription and brandished it for her to see.</p><p>“A standard ibuprofen tablet is 200mg, so 400mg is <em> two </em> of those pills,” he pointed out. “4000mg is ten times that much! Didn’t you think something was strange about your husband taking a grand total of <em> twenty </em> pills?!”</p><p>Nosie’s gaunt face flushed in visible embarrassment.</p><p>“…the pain he had told me about was very serious,” she said, “a-and I trusted the doctor’s judgement…”</p><p>“Not only that,” Phoenix interrupted before her excuses could go any further, “but even if the details we have with us hadn’t disproved this fishy scrip, I would’ve thought common sense would come into play somewhere.” He stroked his chin in a mocking display of thought. “I know that if my doctor recommended I take twenty pills just for a migraine, I would assume that either I actually had a brain tumour or there had been a misprint.”</p><p>Luke’s hand whipped out as he pointed at Nosie with all the drama he could muster.</p><p>“Your accusations have no basis in logic!” he declared.</p><p>The onlookers in the gallery descended into gossip once again.</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t help but stare at Luke. Who’d have thought that the tiny boy from two years ago could have developed such an authoritative voice? And that was an <em> expertly </em> executed point he had going on. One that caused Phoenix to wonder if perhaps this kid was taking some cues from those other trials he had helped with.</p><p>“Wow, Luke!” said Trucy. “You’re good at this!”</p><p>“Really?” Luke lowered his arm with a bashful blush. “I was worried I’d jumped the gun a little!”</p><p>“To practise law requires an assertive mind, Luke,” said Layton, who was positively beaming with pride. “I wouldn’t think it possible to jump the gun if you recognised there was a problem.”</p><p>As the judge slammed his little hammer and called for order, Phoenix’s gaze wandered down to the papers laid out on their tabletop. He picked up the prescription and the printout and held them up, side-by-side, so that he could look at them both at once.</p><p>“This is strange though,” he pointed out.</p><p>“What is?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Take another look at this scrip,” Phoenix told her, “and compare it to-”</p><p>“Mr Wright,” Michaela interrupted, “it would appear that you have something to say, so would you be so kind as to share it with the rest of the court?”</p><p>Phoenix lowered the papers so that he could look at her, still smiling, happily twirling her hair around her finger. It seemed like she wanted to look sweet and innocent, but she’d landed squarely in the ballpark of smug.</p><p>“Sure,” he said, and turned the papers around for her to see (if she was even looking at him). “There’s another problem with this prescription Mrs Oldfart provided.”</p><p>“Then by all means,” Michaela said happily, “enlighten us as to what that problem is.”</p><p>He laid the papers back down on the tabletop.</p><p>“Let’s compare the scrip to the details Dr Wallace had written down during his appointment,” he said. “In this printout, we can see a recommendation of 400mg and a clarification that he means 2 standard pills. If we look at the scrip, it becomes impossible to chalk this up to a typo; not only does it say 4000mg, but it also clarifies that it means 20 pills.”</p><p>He leaned back and rested his hands in his jacket pockets.</p><p>“Even if I was given until the end of this month,” he continued, “I don’t think I could list every reason this is wrong.”</p><p>“Then allow me to provide a summary, Mr Wright,” Layton added, “by way of a question: why would Dr Wallace not only make the same typo twice, but one that directly contradicts his log of the appointment?”</p><p>“Objection.”</p><p>Michaela adjusted her glasses again. She couldn’t have looked more condescending if she’d tried.</p><p>“Is it not possible that he simply revisited the log in question to correct his misprint,” she suggested, “little knowing that the prescription he had already printed out contained that dangerous, potentially deadly mistake?”</p><p>“OBJECTION!” Luke snatched up the printout. “Your Honour, I’d like you to take a look at the timestamp on this printout. It shows when the document was last edited.”</p><p>He jogged over to the judge’s lectern and presented the paper for him to see. The judge accepted the printout and held it close, narrowing his eyes as he scanned over the details.</p><p>“Hmm…” His eyes widened slightly when he found what he was looking for. “5:29pm. Interesting.”</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart,” Luke said as he took the paper back, “what time did your husband’s appointment end?”</p><p>“It was…” Nosie twirled her cigarette holder around and around in her fingers. “…I think it was around 5:30.”</p><p>“There we have it, Ms Skellig,” Phoenix said as Luke made his way back to the bench. “The last edit made to this document was before the appointment even ended.”</p><p>He reaccepted the printout and slammed it down on the bench as hard as he could.</p><p>“It isn’t possible that the log was revised!”</p><p>Man, these people took <em> any </em> excuse to gossip. The gallery was buzzing like the most furious beehive this side of the Atlantic.</p><p>“HOLD IT!”</p><p>And then they all fell silent again at the sound of the scream from the witness stand.</p><p>Nosie puffed again on her cigarette holder even though it was pretty obvious by now that she wasn’t smoking a goddamn thing.</p><p>“I don’t appreciate these insolent young people standing up in front of this entire village for no reason other than to paint me as a liar!” she shouted at nobody in particular.</p><p>“Our apologies, Mrs Oldfart.” Layton once again adjusted his hat by the brim. “We had no intention of causing you to feel vilified. As the defence, it is simply our sworn duty to interpret the words of witnesses to the most accurate degree that we can.”</p><p>In other words, Phoenix considered, they hadn’t put this woman in any graves that she hadn’t dug for herself.</p><p>“Oh, well…” Nosie, it seemed, hadn’t noticed the Professor’s meaning. “…apology accepted.”</p><p>“Heh,” Phoenix chuckled quietly. “Smooth move, Professor.”</p><p>“Hmm…” Trucy was tapping on her chin again. “I’m not sure.”</p><p>“What is it, Trucy?” asked Luke.</p><p>“I’m a bit confused,” said Trucy. “If Dr Wallace really didn’t make a mistake on the scrip, then…”</p><p>“Then how in the world did these incorrect figures come to be printed upon said prescription to begin with?” Michaela finished for her.</p><p>Trucy’s face fell.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said. “What she said.”</p><p>Phoenix slapped himself in the forehead for being such an idiot.</p><p>“Crud,” he muttered. “I hadn’t thought of that.”</p><p>“You hadn’t?!” Luke exclaimed.</p><p>“I-I’m on vacation, alright?!” Phoenix spluttered. “I’m rusty!”</p><p>“Ah, thank you,” Nosie said happily to the woman behind the prosecutor’s bench. “I can always rely on you to speak sense, young Michaela.”</p><p>“It is my absolute pleasure, Auntie Nosie,” Michaela replied, “and I promise you that no matter what, we shall find the truth about this doctor’s crime and justice shall be won for your poor, bed-ridden husband.”</p><p>There it was again. They really did like talking about this guy, didn’t they? Not that it wasn’t meant to be a subject of discussion, considering he was a victim in this case, but all the same…</p><p>“…hm.” Phoenix found himself rubbing his chin again.</p><p>“Is something wrong, Mr Wright?” asked Layton.</p><p>“Trust me,” said Phoenix, trying to stay quiet enough for Michaela not to hear. “<em>Plenty </em> is wrong right now, but what stands out to me is just how often people talk about how sick the victim got because of this supposed malpractice. I can’t help thinking…”</p><p>“Do you really think he might be faking?!” Trucy gasped.</p><p>“But if he is, then why?” asked Luke. “What would be the point? To get rid of Dr Wallace? If so, then why would he want to do that?!”</p><p>“I will admit,” Layton added thoughtfully, “that the circumstances of this case do strike me as suspicious.” He echoed Phoenix in chin-stroking. “As we have already discussed, Dr Wallace hasn’t even been here for a full 24 hours, yet here he is, on trial for malpractice. If not suspicious, then that’s at least rather odd.”</p><p>Michaela cleared her throat. Phoenix’s heart dropped; evidently, she <em> had </em>heard them.</p><p>“The defence would appear to have forgotten,” she said, “that this hall was designed so that sounds would be amplified by echoes no matter how quietly a person spoke, and I would like to ask the gentleman in the top hat a question regarding his suspicions: what reason would Wrenkley Oldfart have to lie about this malpractice?”</p><p>Now even <em> she </em>was pressing them for an answer, huh?</p><p>“My apologies, Ms Skellig,” Layton responded. “I can’t answer that question.”</p><p>There was that smug smile again…</p><p>“It’s quite alright, Professor,” Michaela said, “as there is no shame in a lack of knowledge.”</p><p>“You’re right there, Ms Skellig,” Phoenix interjected before any more of his friends could be insulted. “There <em> is </em> a lack of knowledge here. We still don’t have anywhere near enough information about what happened yesterday.”</p><p>Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and when he turned to check it out, he noticed the judge shaking his head.</p><p>“Much as it pains me to say,” the old man said, “I agree.”</p><p>He looked up at the witness stand.</p><p>“I believe further testimony may be in order, Mrs Oldfart.”</p><p>“Ugh,” Nosie sighed. “This is ridiculous. What in the world am I supposed to talk about?”</p><p>“How about…” Phoenix had already started talking by the time he realised he didn’t know what to suggest. What was there? What could he suggest? Hmm…</p><p>What could end up the most beneficial to their defence?</p><p>There was one option that held some potential, but it could end up being a dead end...</p><p>“How about telling us more about what happened after you left the clinic?” he suggested anyway.</p><p>Just as before, Nosie fixed him with a glare. If looks could kill, she’d be on trial for genocide.</p><p>“What in the world does that have to do with anything?” she demanded.</p><p>“Well,” Phoenix said, “if you told us, we could figure that out.”</p><p>There was something satisfying about how angry she was at his statement. Maybe if she could be pressed a little further, they might even be able to get some honesty out of those shrivelled up lips.</p><p>“Specifically, Mrs Oldfart,” Layton added, “we’d like to know if you and your husband met with anybody after you departed Dr Wallace’s clinic. Any details you could provide would be immeasurably helpful.”</p><p>Again, Phoenix felt impressed. He should’ve known that was a possibility.</p><p>Nosie, of course, rolled her eyes with a sigh.</p><p>“Very well,” she huffed, “but only because you asked nicely.”</p><p>“Be not afraid, Auntie Nosie,” Michaela instructed her witness, “as I shall not allow these uncouth gentlemen to say anything that would cause you distress.”</p><p>Layton withdrew under his hat.</p><p>“…uncouth?” he repeated.</p><p>Phoenix almost burst out laughing. He had never known a grown man to sound so incredibly <em> hurt </em> at the sound of a single word. The poor guy seemed like he could start crying at any moment.</p><p>He forced down his smile and got ready to take notes again.</p><p>There was no telling how helpful <em> this </em> testimony would turn out to be.</p><p>Mrs Oldfart drew herself up to her full height and cleared her throat.</p><p>“I can’t recall anything out of the ordinary after we left the clinic,” she told the court. “We walked home past the Sacred Well and managed to make it inside before the sun set.”</p><p>Even though there was still no point in puffing on that cigarette holder, she still continued to do so. This woman was doing everything she could to look like she wanted to skin a dalmatian.</p><p>“We shared dinner – just the two of us – and Wrenkley took his medication after we had eaten,” she explained. “After that, we simply sat and listened to the Minstrel’s playing until we were ready for bed. It wasn’t until the next morning that my poor Wrenkley was awoken by terrible pains in his stomach.”</p><p>As Phoenix drew to the end of his notetaking, he noticed that the judge was nodding in understanding. Michaela, meanwhile, was beaming from ear to ear.</p><p>“Mmm, the Minstrel really does play beautifully, doesn’t he?” asked the judge.</p><p>“I cannot help wondering if perhaps he would accept a request,” Michaela pondered, “as I would love to be ushered to sleep in the evening by a rendition of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata played on the Silver Violin.”</p><p>There was that mention of the Minstrel again.</p><p>The last time Phoenix had heard that word in a conversation, it had been followed by five Psyche-Locks flashing into his vision. He couldn’t see any right now, so obviously this wasn’t supposed to be a secret, but what the heck were any of them talking about?</p><p>The Silver Violin? Some special instrument that was only meant to be played at night, when everybody else was hiding inside from the cold and… other things he didn’t want to think about?</p><p>
  <em> Why?! </em>
</p><p>Phoenix tried to shake himself out of his thoughts and back into the courtroom.</p><p>“Sounds like this Minstrel is a big part of the village,” he muttered to his impromptu companion.</p><p>“The night-time violin music is normal, it would seem,” Layton agreed. “I must admit that’s reassuring to hear.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make it any less creepy!” Luke whispered hoarsely.</p><p>With this kid’s wide eyes and the Professor avoiding eye contact with either of them, Phoenix could tell that not only had they both heard that music as well, but they didn’t seem to have had anywhere near as good a time as he and his daughter had.</p><p>Meanwhile, said daughter was tapping her chin again.</p><p>“Do you think you can work with this, Daddy?” she asked. “I don’t know if she said anything all that useful.”</p><p>Phoenix got ready to write again and tried to put that curiosity out of his mind.</p><p>“We won’t know that for sure until after I’ve pressed as much as I can,” he pointed out, “so let’s get to work, shall we?”</p><p>Part of him wished that there could be some device that transcribed everything they were saying as they spoke, so that he could just go back and check the statements in text rather than hurriedly scribbling notes and referring back to what little he’d been able to jot down.</p><p>His handwriting was terrible enough as it was. He <em> really </em>didn’t need a time limit on top of that. Especially one as tight as he’d had to put up with both today and yesterday.</p><p>He checked that he wasn’t going to try to write with his eraser and that he had enough room for his notes.</p><p>“So the circumstances of your departure from the clinic were completely normal?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes,” Nosie replied bluntly. “We paid for the appointment and bade farewell to the doctor, and to Posy as she was in the waiting room, and then we simply walked out the door and past that ruffian that was playing in the street.”</p><p>Phoenix hesitated.</p><p>“Ruffian?” he repeated in hopes that someone could fill him in.</p><p>He cast his eyes sideways as Luke hummed in thought.</p><p>“I think she means the little boy who was playing with rocks outside the library,” he suggested.</p><p>“Ah yes,” said Michaela, “little Tim Chanter does enjoy playing around with whatever he can find in the square near the Sacred Well, as I believe he would like to climb the bell tower if he thinks that nobody is looking and that he will be able to get away with it.”</p><p>Great. As if this village wasn’t weird enough already, they even had a resident Creepy Child to top things off.</p><p>“What, uh…” Phoenix was almost afraid to ask. “What does he do out there all day?”</p><p>“He gave Luke one of the stones he had been playing with,” Layton told him, “saying that it would allow him to ‘see what’s really there’.”</p><p>“But what the heck does <em> that </em> mean?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>It took him all of two seconds to regret asking that question. Layton set his jaw as the colour drained out of his face, and he turned away from Phoenix, pulling his hat’s brim down over his eyes.</p><p>Phoenix looked to Luke to ask what this was about, but found the boy shrinking away from him, nervously fiddling with one of the toggles on his coat.</p><p>“Let’s get back on topic, shall we?” asked Layton.</p><p>The ex-lawyer he was addressing decided this was a subject best left for later.</p><p>“Good call,” he said. “Mrs Oldfart?”</p><p>“Yes?” Nosie snapped.</p><p>“Did you speak to anybody on your way home?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>Nosie pursed her lips again.</p><p>“No,” she replied.</p><p>“Hmm…”</p><p>Phoenix looked down at the source of that thoughtful little hum.</p><p>“Something up, Truce?” he asked.</p><p>“I, uh…” Trucy had her wide eyes fixed on Mrs Oldfart with the most intense focus Phoenix had seen all week. “I’m not sure. Let’s keep going for now.”</p><p>“Right, okay, uh…” Phoenix pencilled in the biggest question mark he dared to draw. “Can you please tell the court where you live, Mrs Oldfart?”</p><p>“Hmph!” For a moment, she looked as though she was about to eat her cigarette again. “I would hardly think that was any of your business!”</p><p>“Mr and Mrs Oldfart live just down the hill from here and at the end of the road,” Michaela thankfully explained, “tucked away among the towering rocks, beneath the mountain from which the Minstrel regales us with his wonderful nightly concerts from the Pictish Shrine.”</p><p>She clasped her hands in glee as she remembered that Minstrel again.</p><p>“A mountaintop shrine?” Layton said thoughtfully. “I wonder if they would allow me to take a look?”</p><p>“Given the reception we’ve had so far,” said Luke, “I rather doubt it.”</p><p>Phoenix tapped the eraser end of his pencil on the page he’d been writing on.</p><p>“What, um…” Hopefully she wouldn’t bite his head off at this question as well. “What route do you take to get home?”</p><p>To his relief, she gave him the faintest of smiles.</p><p>“The Sacred Well is such a beautiful landmark,” she replied, “and the bell tower is a proud piece of our village’s history, so of course we followed that path to get home.”</p><p>“If it would please the defence,” Michaela spoke up stepping out again from behind her bench, “I have here a map, drawn by myself some years ago, of our dear village that may give a better understanding of the route that Auntie Nosie and Uncle Wrenkley followed in order to return to their home, bearing in mind that they live in the small chicken farm beneath this hall.”</p><p>She rested another sheet of paper on the defence’s bench, and Phoenix pulled it closer for a good look as she walked away.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>So the building with the cross was the clinic, was it? Phoenix traced the route from there to the Oldfarts’ house with his finger.</p><p>“Well,” he said, “I can see how they’d run into Mr and Mrs Teeve. Look how close they live to the clinic.”</p><p>“Quite a sparse little village, isn’t it?” asked Layton.</p><p>“It’s more like a hamlet than a village,” commented Luke.</p><p>The cursive in the corner caught Phoenix’s eye.</p><p>“What’s the Painted King?” he wondered aloud.</p><p>“Evidently it’s something – or someone – that calls this village home,” said Layton.</p><p>“Hmm…”</p><p>Phoenix ripped his eyes away from the map and saw that Trucy was still staring, intent as can be, at their witness.</p><p>“Trucy,” he said, “I can tell you have something on your mind. What’s up?”</p><p>“I, um…” She continued tapping her chin. “I’m still not sure. Keep going, Daddy. I need a better look.”</p><p>Oh, so <em> that </em> was what she meant.</p><p>“I gotcha,” Phoenix assured her, and he raised his journal again.</p><p>“A better look at what?” asked Layton.</p><p>“You’ll see,” Phoenix replied.</p><p>He turned back to his evidence list and scribbled in another entry:</p><p> </p><p><em> Village Map </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Unofficial map of Fatargan </em></p><p> </p><p>“How many pills did Mr Oldfart take?” he asked, because this was the most obvious question that he couldn’t believe nobody else had thought to ask yet.</p><p>“Hmph!” Nosie huffed yet again. “I can’t watch my husband every second of the day! How am I to know how many of those pills he swallowed?”</p><p>“Given our suspicion that he had actually overdosed,” Layton chimed in, “I would say that this information is quite pertinent.”</p><p>“Well, I’m sorry I can’t provide it,” said Nosie, and sucked on her pointless cigarette holder again. “I’m not about to help you people conjure up fairy tales about how this wretched doctor is actually innocent!”</p><p>Luke slammed down on the bench again.</p><p>“We don’t have any proof of his guilt!” he argued. “Until we do, please cooperate with the court!”</p><p>“Ugh! Gracious, such <em> insolence! </em>” Just as Phoenix had feared, Nosie took another bite out of her cigarette – looking closer, it was definitely just candy. “Michaela, could you please go over there and slap some sense into that silly little boy?!”</p><p>Michaela remained where she was and adjusted her glasses.</p><p>“My apologies, Mrs Oldfart,” she said, “but I am not permitted to physically abuse any members of the court, defence or otherwise.”</p><p>“Oh, <em> thank god</em>,” Phoenix sighed.</p><p>He checked the notes he had taken on the testimony again.</p><p>“So you had dinner,” he recalled. “Just the two of you?”</p><p>Nosie glared at him yet again.</p><p>“Yes,” she replied.</p><p>“There it is!”</p><p>This time, when Phoenix turned to Trucy, she was smiling excitedly and bouncing up and down on her chair.</p><p>“Okay, Trucy-Goosy,” Phoenix said with a smile of his own. “What do your elf eyes see?”</p><p>“It happens when she talks about being alone with her husband that night,” Trucy explained. “See how she’s holding that cigarette holder?”</p><p>She pointed at Nosie, who was eyeing them with blatant suspicion.</p><p>“When you ask whether anyone else was there,” Trucy told him, “her fingers get all twitchy. She kind of rubs her fingertips on the metal. It’s <em> really </em> small, so I’m not surprised you missed it.”</p><p>Phoenix nodded.</p><p>“Right,” he said. “Nice catch.”</p><p>Layton chuckled softly at the little girl’s enthusiasm.</p><p>“Quite the observant young lady, aren’t you?” he asked.</p><p>Once he was done admiring how smart his little girl was, Phoenix turned back to the witness stand and slammed one hand on the bench to make sure Mrs Oldfart was listening.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart,” he said as sternly as he could.</p><p>Nosie rolled her eyes. It was a miracle they hadn’t fallen out of her face yet.</p><p>“What?” she asked.</p><p>“Forgive me for my insolence,” Phoenix said, “but I don’t believe you’re being entirely honest with us.”</p><p>“Hmph!” She slotted a fresh cigarette into her holder. “Well, I never! Have I given you <em> any </em>reason to doubt my testimony?”</p><p>“I’m a lawyer, Mrs Oldfart,” Phoenix replied. “Doubting comes with the territory.”</p><p>He leaned back from the bench and rested his hands in his pockets again. The last thing he wanted was to hint to this woman that she intimidated him in the slightest.</p><p>“You say that you didn’t encounter anybody on your way home except for a young boy,” he recounted, “and that you and your husband were alone together for the rest of the evening, but are you really telling the truth?”</p><p>“How dare you?!” Nosie’s beady eyes flashed with fury. “It isn’t even possible that we would meet anybody either on our way home OR after we had returned!”</p><p>It was very difficult not to smile again.</p><p>“And that’s a good example of the things I have to doubt,” Phoenix told her.</p><p>“Is it now?” Nosie stared holes into his face down the length of her nose. “What proof do you have that I might be lying?”</p><p>Phoenix made as much of a show as he could of pulling the map closer to himself and turning it around so that it was facing her.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart,” he said, and pointed down at the map to trace the route again. “Your path home takes you through half the village and past the other half. The sunset is later here than it is at sea level, and I recall seeing a woman working on an ice sculpture while my daughter and I were making our way to the King’s Arms.”</p><p>He picked up the map and held it up in case she couldn’t see it.</p><p>“Is it really possible that you didn’t encounter <em> anybody </em> on your way home?” he asked.</p><p>“Ugh!” Nosie gasped again.</p><p>This time, the mutters from the crowd were accompanied by glances and brief points in Phoenix’s direction, as well as a number of angry or nervous looks towards the witness stand. It almost seemed as though the tide could be turning in their favour.</p><p>“Trucy, how did you notice what she was doing with her fingers?” asked Luke. “I didn’t see anything!”</p><p>“It runs in my bloodline, my friend,” Trucy said proudly, hands on her hips. “I have special, super-powerful eyes that let me see when people are hiding something!”</p><p>“It runs in your bloodline, does it?” Layton smiled and looked up at Phoenix again. “Would either of your parents happen to share this ability?”</p><p>Phoenix gulped and hoped nobody noticed.</p><p>“Daddy’s got something different,” Trucy explained, “but he can see people’s secrets too. He’s got a magic amulet!”</p><p>“Trucy, don’t go blurting my secrets out to the courtroom, okay?” Phoenix warned.</p><p>“Oh, sorry!” Trucy gasped, and she slapped her gloved hands over her mouth.</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t help but smile. It was impossible to stay even slightly mad at her when she was just <em> that </em> adorable.</p><p>“It’s fine,” he assured her, and he turned back to the witness stand. “Mrs Oldfart, you are a glamorous woman, but secrets are unbecoming of you.”</p><p>Nosie’s hand trembled, her grip so tight on her cigarette holder that it seemed as though she might break it, and her lips were pursed as though she were chewing on a lemon full of wasps.</p><p>“Did anybody meet with you or your husband following his appointment with Dr Wallace?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>If <em> this </em> was what she was getting worked up about, then it had to be true, didn’t it? She wouldn’t have been trying to hide something and giving off the tic Trucy noticed if she really had spent the entire evening alone with her husband, like she had previously said.</p><p>Would she?</p><p>“I…” Nosie choked. “I-I…”</p><p>She slowly lowered her hand, head bowed in shame. For such a large presence of a person, she certainly seemed to have shrunk a whole lot.</p><p>“I can’t say,” she said.</p><p>Phoenix frowned.</p><p>“Why not?” he asked.</p><p>“I can’t!” cried Nosie, now clutching her cigarette holder in both hands and twisting it.</p><p>“OBJECTION!” Luke accompanied his shout with another slam on the bench. “’I can’t’ isn’t a good enough excuse, Mrs Oldfart! Explain to the court what’s preventing you from telling the truth!”</p><p>Nosie swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She straightened up, shoulders still slumped in defeat, and when she looked back up at the court, her expression was noticeably downtrodden.</p><p>“I am sworn to secrecy,” she explained, “in the name of the Painted King.”</p><p>Her statement sparked more gossip in the gallery, but this time it was hushed and frightened. The few audible whispers were along the lines of “no wonder” and “the poor dear” and “how dare that foreigner bully her so harshly!”</p><p>The judge, however, was nodding in understanding, while Michaela just retained her soft smirk and coiled a lock of pale blonde around her finger.</p><p>“I understand,” said the judge.</p><p>“Then you may retain this secret as your own, Auntie Nosie,” said Michaela.</p><p>Mrs Oldfart bowed her head again.</p><p>“Thank you,” she mumbled.</p><p>Phoenix’s frown deepened. How was this statement enough not only to convert the entire courtroom to this woman’s side, but also shove her off that high horse she had been riding so proudly?</p><p>“Why is everybody talking like that makes sense?” he asked.</p><p>“There’s that name again,” said Layton, tapping one finger on the map’s corner. “The Painted King?”</p><p>“Professor.” Luke tapped on Layton’s arm to get his attention. “Once this is all done, I think we should go to the library to read up on this.”</p><p>“Good idea, my boy,” Layton replied.</p><p>“Mr Wright.” Again, Michaela’s soft voice somehow carried all around the hall. “The witness has been forbidden from revealing the details of whether or not she and her husband met with any persons following their departure from Dr Wallace’s clinic, and I would like to request that any further questioning in regards to that subject be met with a charge of contempt of court.”</p><p>To Phoenix’s dismay, the judge nodded.</p><p>“I agree,” he added, and raised his little hammer. “This line of questioning is hereby discontinued.”</p><p>He brought the hammer down with a resounding <em> clap</em>.</p><p>Phoenix’s breath caught in his throat.</p><p>“…huh?” was all he managed to say.</p><p>“Hold it!”</p><p>This time it was the Professor who smacked a hand down on the bench.</p><p>“Your Honour,” he said sternly, his dark eyes narrowed in anger. “The defence has reason to believe that further questioning will reveal the truth of this supposed malpractice. Please understand that we-”</p><p>“<em> Objection</em>.”</p><p>Michaela was slowly shaking her head.</p><p>“Did you not hear Mrs Oldfart?” she asked, and continued without waiting for any reply. “She is sworn to secrecy in the name of the Painted King; therefore she cannot reveal those secrets without putting her soul at great risk, and to press her further would also bring great risk to your souls as well, so I suggest that you settle down and refrain from attempting to pursue this line of questioning."</p><p>"OBJECTION!”</p><p>Luke’s voice somehow seemed even louder in the courtroom’s crushing silence.</p><p>“But where does that leave us?” he asked. “How are we supposed to find out the truth about this matter if-”</p><p>“If it pleases the defence,” said Michaela, “I do have another witness.”</p><p>Luke weakly lowered his arm in shock.</p><p>Phoenix, however, could only find it in himself to roll his eyes.</p><p>“Of course you do,” he commented. “So who’s this one? Someone who happened to look out the window at around the same time the victim was leaving the clinic?”</p><p>Michaela chuckled that musical little laugh at his question.</p><p>“Nothing so vague, Mr Wright,” she giggled, “as it is nobody less than the victim himself.”</p><p>“WHAT?!” Trucy almost fell off her chair.</p><p>“Interesting.” Layton, meanwhile, stroked his chin in thought.</p><p>Somehow, Phoenix almost felt relieved again.</p><p>“I forgot he was still alive,” he remarked. “I’m so used to handling murders that it’s weird to have a victim who’s still kicking.”</p><p>“HOLD IT!” Luke pointed as hard as he could. “We’ve heard time and again that Mr Oldfart is too sick to leave his bed, let alone leave his home! How is he going to testify to this court?!”</p><p>Michaela just kept coiling her hair around her finger.</p><p>“All shall be revealed, young man,” she replied, “but I request a recess in order to prepare, and I believe that ten minutes may be enough.”</p><p>She turned to look at the judge.</p><p>“Uncle Angus?” she said.</p><p>“Of course, dear,” the judge responded, and he looked over at the other side of the hall. “I suggest the defence take this time to reconsider their manners towards the witnesses.”</p><p>He raised the hammer again.</p><p>“That said,” he said, “this court is now in recess.”</p><p>And with that, he brought the hammer down.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Trucy kicked uselessly at a frozen puddle.</p><p>“How are they going to get Mr Oldfart to testify if he can’t even leave his bed?!” She stomped and almost slipped on the ice, but Phoenix caught her before she could fall.</p><p>“I have a hunch,” he admitted, “and I <em> really </em> hope it’s wrong.”</p><p>The frosty ground crunched under Layton’s feet as he paced back and forth, watched by his apprentice and the doctor he was helping to defend.</p><p>“It’s fairly clear by now,” he said in the most teacherly voice Phoenix had heard in months, “that another person met with the victim and his wife in the evening after they left your clinic, Dr Wallace. Even if Mrs Oldfart refuses to speak of it, it isn’t difficult to tell.”</p><p>“Sworn to secrecy…” Luke was sitting on the ground beside Dr Wallace, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. “…Painted King? Who’s the Painted King? Why is his name so important?”</p><p>“I wish I knew,” Dr Wallace sighed. “He wasn’t mentioned on any of the sites I visited when I was researching my new posting.”</p><p>Phoenix looked around just in time for Layton to pause in his pacing.</p><p>“Dr Wallace,” he said, “you will have to educate me. I’m knowledgeable in many things, but I have very little medical expertise. Could you describe the symptoms of an ibuprofen overdose?”</p><p>“Hmm, let’s see…” The doctor traced his fingers over the pot holding his best friend. “Like with any overdose, you’ve got your mild symptoms and your severe symptoms. The mild ones are things like tinnitus, heartburn, nausea and vomiting, stomach pain, diarrhoea, dizziness, blurred vision, sweating and sometimes a rash.”</p><p>“…those are <em> mild? </em>” Phoenix muttered to himself.</p><p>“Your more severe symptoms,” Dr Wallace continued, “are more in the area of slow or difficult breathing, convulsions, hypotension – that’s low blood pressure if you don’t know – seizures, little-to-no urine production, severe headache and/or coma.”</p><p>Layton responded with a slow nod.</p><p>“I see,” he said. “That’s quite the list.”</p><p>“You have to be careful with any medication,” said Dr Wallace, “or else you’ll end up in a much worse state than before you took it.”</p><p>Luke raised his head from his fingers.</p><p>“Four <em> thousand </em> milligrams is definitely an overdose, isn’t it?” he asked.</p><p>Dr Wallace nodded. “The maximum dosage for an adult is 800 at a time-”</p><p>“-or four pills?” Phoenix asked for clarification.</p><p>“-right,” the doctor confirmed, “and you definitely should <em> not </em>take more than 3200 in any given day. That’s sixteen pills.”</p><p>Trucy tapped on her chin again.</p><p>“So 4000 is <em> totally </em> an overdose,” she concluded.</p><p>“Exactly,” Dr Wallace replied. “And I would NEVER prescribe such a ridiculous amount, especially for something as simple as a migraine.”</p><p>Layton went back to pacing around.</p><p>“Can I see that prescription again?” asked Luke. “Not my printout. The one from yesterday.”</p><p>Phoenix reached into the pocket he’d hastily shoved the scrip into and passed it to the teen’s waiting hand.</p><p>“Knock yourself out,” he said.</p><p>Luke pulled the printout back out of his satchel and held it up beside the scrip. His eyes darted back and forth between the pair of documents, growing narrower and more suspicious with every near-imperceptible flicker.</p><p>After what seemed like ages, he lowered the printout and stared even closer at the scrip, causing his mentor to pause again.</p><p>“Have you noticed something, Luke?” the Professor enquired.</p><p>Luke’s eyes suddenly widened.</p><p>“I thought so!” he cried. “Professor, look at this!”</p><p>He beckoned Layton closer, but Phoenix and Trucy joined in coming to see what he had discovered.</p><p>“It’s difficult to see,” Luke said, pointing at the listed dosage, “but these extra 0s… the other letters and numbers are a bit closer to those than they are to each other.”</p><p>“Can I see?” asked Trucy.</p><p>Luke handed her the scrip and she too squinted down at the paper.</p><p>When Phoenix noticed it, his veins filled with ice.</p><p>“Oh my gosh, you’re right!” cried Trucy.</p><p>Phoenix gulped and prayed that he was wrong.</p><p>“O-okay,” he stammered. “I’m an old fogie. I don’t know anything about computers and even less about prescriptions. What does that mean?”</p><p>Luke gently took the scrip out of Trucy’s fingers.</p><p>“It means this prescription was edited,” he explained. “I think…” He tapped on the too-close numbers. “I think what happened was that someone scanned it, then they edited in the extra 0s and printed it off to pass as the real thing.”</p><p>While Trucy ooh-ed in understanding, Phoenix gritted his teeth and pulled out his journal to edit the evidence notes.</p><p> </p><p><em> Prescription </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Instructions for Wrenkley Oldfart’s medication: 4000mg of ibuprofen (20 pills) Edited following the appointment. </em></p><p> </p><p>“S-scanned it, huh?” Phoenix prayed that nobody asked why he was tripping over his words. “So our third party is somebody with a scanner?”</p><p>“I don’t know if that narrows it down,” Luke said sadly. “Scanners are pretty common these days.”</p><p>“The one in my clinic doubles as a fax machine and triples as a printer,” added Dr Wallace.</p><p>“Impressive,” Layton said happily. “Modern technology truly is a marvel!”</p><p>Phoenix took a deep breath.</p><p>It was okay. This wasn’t his. It wasn’t <em> him </em> who had presented this as genuine.</p><p>It wasn’t his crime.</p><p>He was innocent.</p><p>He didn’t do it.</p><p>He was <em> innocent</em>.</p><p>He pushed himself back up to his feet and hoped nobody had seen the horrified expression he’d probably had just then.</p><p>“In any case,” he said, and rubbed his tired eyes again, “we don’t have time to go around to every house in this village and ask to see if they have a scanner on their computer, do we?”</p><p>“I can go and ask!” Trucy shot one hand into the air.</p><p>“Trucy, no,” said Phoenix. “Not only would all those houses be empty because of everyone being at this trial – and I am NOT letting you break into private property two days in a row – but if we can get to the truth by the end of this trial, this scrip being edited might end up being irrelevant.”</p><p>“I assume that you’re referring to your suspicion that no malpractice or overdosing took place to begin with?” asked Layton. “That the Oldfarts are lying?”</p><p>Phoenix nodded. Seemed like nobody had noticed.</p><p>“I feel like I should thank Ms Skellig,” he commented. “Getting to ask the victim about this mess directly might just be exactly what we needed.”</p><p>“Ugh, I hope so,” Luke groaned. “If it turns out the Painted King made him shut up as well…”</p><p>Trucy responded with a giggle.</p><p>“Good thing Daddy and I can tell when people have secrets, huh?” she asked.</p><p>Layton laughed along with her.</p><p>“It certainly is,” he agreed, and he turned his attention to her father. “I hope that you can tell me a little more about this remarkable power once all of this is sorted out.”</p><p>Phoenix found himself reaching into his jeans pocket, sliding his fingers over the smooth, jade-coloured surface.</p><p>What the heck would these people say if they were holding this thing? If they could see what <em> he </em> was trying to keep hidden? Would they still want his help? Would they still want to be his friends if they knew what had happened to him?</p><p>Would they even want to look at him anymore?</p><p>No. No, they wouldn’t. Not if they had any sense about them.</p><p>No way would they want to spend another minute with such a failure of a human being.</p><p>“…yeah,” he said numbly. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”</p><p>Oh no, he did <em> not </em> like the way Layton was looking at him right now. This man was just <em> itching </em> to ask the most uncomfortable question he could.</p><p>
  <em> *tap-tap-tap* </em>
</p><p>Thankfully, before he got the chance, they were interrupted by Jack knocking on the door beside them, and she nodded her head in the direction of the hall’s interior.</p><p>Their ten minutes was up.</p><p>Time to reconvene.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Frozen Court part 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The judge slammed his toffee hammer on his lectern, silencing the chattering crowd.</p><p>“Court will now reconvene,” he declared to the hall, and he turned to look to the prosecution. “Ms Skellig, is your witness ready to testify?”</p><p>“Indeed he is, Your Honour,” Michaela replied, smiling contently while coiling her hair around her finger, “and I believe that no doubt shall remain by the time he has finished, so I request that you all please allow me to welcome Mr Wrenkley Oldfart to the stand.”</p><p>Beside the Professor, Luke pressed his cap down onto his head. His brows were furrowed in grim determination.</p><p>“Well,” he said, “time to see how they’re planning to do this.”</p><p>Phoenix sighed.</p><p>“I swear, if it’s what I think they’re doing…”</p><p>He trailed off at the sound of bickering from the hall’s entrance; Layton looked over just in time to see the double doors swinging open. The innkeeper – Jack Hill, if he was remembering correctly – was standing beside those doors and waving something into the room in a style reminiscent of a traffic cop.</p><p>And then they came into view.</p><p>A quartet of young men carried a brass-framed bed into the hall, its legs propped over their shoulders. Layton recognised the librarian, Mr Edwards, frowning in annoyance and brushing the corner of a white bedsheet out of his face.</p><p>The gallery exploded into gasps and whispers of astonishment, rippling as the villagers gradually became aware of just what was happening in this courtroom.</p><p>“Oh my god…” muttered Luke, and Layton heard a slap of hand against face.</p><p>“What?!” cried Trucy, eyes wide in alarm.</p><p>“My word!” Layton couldn’t avoid his own exclamation of shock, and he adjusted the brim of his hat in case, for whatever reason, it was altering what he was seeing.</p><p>Phoenix, meanwhile, let out his longest and most exhausted groan of the entire morning so far.</p><p>“I thought we asked for Wrenkley Oldfart,” he said, “not the goddamn Pharaoh of the Nile.”</p><p>With the help of Jack’s co-ordination, the bed was slowly, steadily lowered to the floor, finally landing on the concrete with a series of clacks and thumps. Only once it had been rested did the bed’s resident finally become visible: an elderly man, balding and thin and wrapped in a dressing gown, buried in a mountain of floral-sheeted pillows and laying still as though he was asleep.</p><p>The moment the carriers moved away from the bed, Nosie rushed to its resident’s side and clasped his hand in her own skinny fingers.</p><p>“Oh Wrenkley!” she cried. “My darling! I’m so sorry to have left you at home all by yourself for such a long time! Tell me, how are you?”</p><p>The old man – Wrenkley Oldfart, here in the flesh at long last – stirred slowly, indicating that perhaps he <em> had </em> been asleep until now. He opened his eyes weakly and looked up at the taxidermy-clad woman who stood beside his bed, clutching his hand and leaning over his blanketed form.</p><p>“…Nosetta?” His voice was hoarse and quiet. “That you, love?”</p><p>“I’m right here, my sweet!” cried Nosie. “I shall stay by your side no matter what!”</p><p>She paused just long enough to throw a scathing glance in the defence’s direction, and Layton did his best not to show any reaction to her ferocity.</p><p>“Please tell me,” she continued, “how badly does it hurt?”</p><p>“Oh… it’s very painful…” Mr Oldfart rubbed his stomach, grimacing in agony. “…my stomach, it hurts… so terribly…”</p><p>He really was right there in his bed, wasn’t he? They truly <em> did </em> carry that massive piece of furniture all the way up that hill and into this hall for everyone to see.</p><p>This wasn’t a hoax. This really was the solution Michaela had conceived to make sure she could get the testimony she needed. She really had decided that the best thing they could do was just to bring the entire <em> bed </em> up the hill and into the courtroom.</p><p>How in the world had they carried it all the way up the slope without this man slipping out?! It was hardly a shallow incline!</p><p>“Wow,” Layton heard Phoenix say as Nosie continued comforting her husband, “he’s laying it on <em> thick</em>.”</p><p>The Professor wracked his brain for something he could say. He had hoped that at least <em> someone </em>in this village could have been sensible – the few citizens, save for that strange child, had seemed like reasonable people – but this was beyond the pale.</p><p>“I suppose…” he managed to say. “I suppose that’s <em> one </em> way of bringing a sick man to testify.”</p><p>“…couldn’t they just Skype…?” Luke asked weakly.</p><p>“I’m so jealous,” said Trucy. “Imagine being carried everywhere in your bed. It’d be amazing! I want to go to school like that someday! No, no, I want to be carried onstage in my bed!”</p><p>“You wouldn’t be able to perform any of your tricks!” Phoenix pointed out.</p><p>“I could still do stuff like card tricks if someone brought me a deck!” Trucy retorted. “People can gather round to see, can’t they? It’d be cosy!”</p><p>Phoenix snorted in laughter.</p><p>“That’s a show I’d like to see,” he said. “A magic show where the magician’s just in bed the whole time. Please tell me you’d do the performance in your PJs.”</p><p>“Daddy, of course!” Trucy said happily. “I’m not going to wear my stage outfit in bed! It’d be uncomfortable!”</p><p>“…get him on a webcam or…” Luke mumbled.</p><p>When Layton turned to see if he was alright, he noticed the poor boy’s eyes were bulging and fixed on the bed Mr Oldfart was lying in.</p><p>“Try not to fret too much, my boy.” Layton tried to comfort him with a pat on his shoulder. “What matters is that he’s in this room to begin with.”</p><p>“Indeed,” Michaela said from across the room, “what our visiting scholar says is the truth, but regardless, since it is a matter of protocol, I must request that our latest witness provide his name and occupation to the members of the court.”</p><p>Layton suppressed the comment he wanted to make about how rude it was to eavesdrop on a private conversation.</p><p>“…my name is…” the old man groaned, “…Wrenkley Oldfart… I take care of chickens and…” He pressed both hands against his stomach. “…<em>ooh</em>… I provide fresh eggs to the… to our dear little village…”</p><p>“People are seriously buying this?!” Phoenix whispered.</p><p>“I don’t understand how…” Wrenkley continued. “…how this could have happened… <em> oof</em>…”</p><p>He reached out towards his wife.</p><p>“…Nosetta, darling…” he croaked, “…hold my hand…”</p><p>“I’m right here, sweetheart!” Nosie clasped his hand again. “I shan’t leave you, I promise!”</p><p>“…maybe even just email…” said Luke.</p><p>“Luke, are you okay?” asked Trucy.</p><p>When Layton looked back to check, he saw that his poor apprentice was still very visibly dumbfounded by what he was witnessing.</p><p>“I-I don’t know…” His voice was softened by horror. “…I think I might be psychologically damaged now…”</p><p>“Your Honour,” Phoenix said to the judge while Trucy patted Luke on the back. “I recommend we proceed with the testimony as soon as possible so that we can get my third co-counsel to a therapist or something.”</p><p>“Uncle Wrenkley,” Michaela spoke up before the judge could respond, “I understand that this must be an incredibly difficult time for you and I apologise for having to bring you up to this hall when you are in such terrible condition, but I must request that you testify to this court about how you came to be in this state and whether or not Dr Wallace is responsible for your suffering.”</p><p>The old man in the bed looked over at her, then at the group behind the defence bench, and closed his eyes with another moan of pain.</p><p>“<em> Oooh</em>…” His eyes were closed in another agonised grimace. “…I don’t know if I can…”</p><p>“Don’t worry, darling!” Nosie pressed a kiss to her husband’s knuckles. “I won’t let these brats insult you the way they’ve so cruelly insulted me!”</p><p>“…thank you, my dear,” Wrenkley replied, his wrinkled face twitching with the slightest hint of a smile. “…I’ll do my best…”</p><p>“Uh, Dad?” Trucy was peering up at her father with a worried frown. “I can’t figure out if this is good or not.”</p><p>Phoenix, however, had his hands casually rested in his pockets.</p><p>“I have a plan, Truce,” he said calmly. “You’ll have to trust me on this.”</p><p>“For now, let’s just see what he has to say,” said Layton, hoping that perhaps he could spur his friend into showing some semblance of energy. “Perhaps he won’t even make any accusations.”</p><p>“I just can’t stop thinking about all the easier ways this could’ve been done!” By now Luke was clutching his head and looked as though he might start crying. “Even just a phone call would count, wouldn’t it? Can witnesses testify over the phone? Please tell me they can!”</p><p>“Luke, perhaps we can speak to Ms Skellig once all of this is over,” Layton told him, and gently pulled one of Luke’s hands away from his head. “Maybe this was the only method Mr Oldfart would agree to.”</p><p>“Plus I’m sure they’ll let <em> you </em> have a long lie down if you need it,” Trucy added.</p><p>Luke lowered his other hand with a long, exhausted exhale.</p><p>“I don’t need a lie down…” he said weakly. “…just a sit…”</p><p>“Here!” Trucy jumped down to the floor. “Borrow my chair for a bit!”</p><p>“…thank you.”</p><p>Luke gently sat down in the newly vacated chair and stared off into the distance.</p><p>“While you recover,” said Phoenix, “let’s get back on track.”</p><p>He fixed his gaze on the bed, still frowning.</p><p>“We’ve had plenty of witness testimony so far,” he said, “so let’s see what we can get out of a <em> victim </em> testimony.”</p><p>Layton responded with a nod. He had a feeling this would all go more smoothly if he could somehow get it through Mr Wright’s head that there were people here who wanted to be on his side and wouldn’t take no for an answer.</p><p>He followed Phoenix’s eyes to the bed, just in time to see Nosie press a kiss to her husband’s forehead. </p><p>“Although I must confess, Mr Wright,” he spoke up, “I understand your daughter’s concern. With the witnesses we’ve had thus far, added to this man’s condition, I have no idea whether this could be beneficial or not.”</p><p>Phoenix’s face fell.</p><p>“…yeah,” he groaned. “And you weren’t even here for the Teeves…”</p><p>Before the Professor could ask what had made the Teeves so unbearable, all chatter in the hall was silenced by the judge slamming his hammer again.</p><p>“If both sides of the court are prepared,” he called, “we shall begin your testimony. Wrenkley, go ahead. Whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>After one final peck on the cheek, Nosie stepped back from her husband’s bed, and Wrenkley himself shuffled up in his pillows to make himself more visible.</p><p>Beside Layton, Phoenix opened his notebook to a fresh page and stood with his pencil at the ready.</p><p>Layton leaned over his arm and tried to get a look at the writing on the opposite page.</p><p>He couldn’t read one word of it.</p><p>The handwriting was <em> dreadful</em>.</p><p>Never mind. Things would be alright so long as Phoenix could read his own handwriting, wouldn’t they?</p><p>Wrenkley Oldfart groaned again.</p><p>“I took my medication at…” Again, he rubbed his stomach. “…<em>ooh</em>… around half past seven in the evening.”</p><p>“He took it the moment we finished our dinner,” added his wife. “My darling Wrenkley has always been prompt, haven’t you, dear?”</p><p>“I…” Wrenkley winced and hissed in pain. “I didn’t think there was anything strange… I trusted Dr Wallace… I trusted his judgement…”</p><p>“As soon as he was finished taking his pills,” said Nosie, “we settled down to spend the night in peace.”</p><p>“I really… <em> ooooh</em>…” Wrenkley groaned yet again. “I really didn’t think anything was wrong…”</p><p>He trailed off, peering up at his wife through the mounds of pillows his body was settled in, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead.</p><p>The judge, meanwhile, gave the pair a sad nod.</p><p>“I understand,” he said. “You poor man. I can’t imagine the pain you must be in.”</p><p>Part of Layton expected Phoenix to make some snide comment about Mr Oldfart’s bad acting, but it seemed that he was too busy furiously writing to do so.</p><p>“If it pleases the court,” said Michaela, producing a small cardboard box from within the confines of her coat, “I have here the medication that has been the point of discussion for this entire trial thus far, provided very kindly by Auntie Nosie, and I would be delighted to submit it to the court.”</p><p>“Very well,” the judge said with another nod. “The court accepts this medication as evidence. Ms Skellig, if you could allow the defence to have a look?”</p><p>Michaela nodded and walked across the room, her long skirt and coat sweeping around her form and almost seeming to billow in some non-existent breeze, and she gently rested the little box on the defence’s bench. Luke snatched it up to open while Phoenix flipped back to his evidence list to make a note of it.</p><p>“Let’s take a look…” Luke muttered.</p><p>He pulled two plastic strips of tablets out of the box. One was complete – all twelve tablets present and accounted for – while the other had eight punched out. Trucy picked up the box with a hum of thought and turned it over in her hands, then held it up for Phoenix to see its label.</p><p>Layton glanced over Phoenix’s shoulder again to see what he had written:</p><p> </p><p><em> Pill box </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - Standard box of ibuprofen. Labelled 36 pills. Contains two twelve-pill strips. Eight pills have been taken from one of the strips. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Something feels off about these,” said Trucy, turning the box over in her gloved hands. “I don’t know if I can put my finger on it, but this feels weird.”</p><p>“No, I agree with you,” Luke replied, giving a good look to the used strip. “It looks like a standard box of painkillers, but…”</p><p>He slotted the two strips back into the box.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m getting a strange vibe.”</p><p>“If only there was a bird that had looked through the window that evening which you could ask for details,” Layton commented to his young apprentice.</p><p>The remark prompted a faint growl from Phoenix.</p><p>“Please, no,” he hissed. “I’ve had enough of questioning birds. Twice was enough.”</p><p>“Twice?!” cried Luke.</p><p>Phoenix rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Remind me to tell you later,” he said.</p><p>“If the defence is ready,” the judge spoke up, “they may begin their cross-examination.”</p><p>“Yes! Yes, of course!” Phoenix hurriedly flipped forward to a blank page. “Jeez, I get the feeling I’m not making a great impression on this court…”</p><p>“Just hold it together a little longer, Daddy!” Trucy hugged her father’s arm. “You can do it!”</p><p>It was almost imperceptible, but Phoenix definitely swallowed at that proposition.</p><p>The Professor frowned, hoping it went beyond notice. What on earth was this man so afraid of? Surely he knew exactly what he was doing by now, didn’t he?</p><p>And yet Layton got the feeling that were it not for that vivid hat, Phoenix’s forehead would be dripping with sweat.</p><p>Nevertheless, the taller man cleared his throat and prepared to write.</p><p>“Did you have any problems taking the pills?” he asked.</p><p>Wrenkley hissed in pain again.</p><p>“There were… quite a few…” he replied. “It was difficult to get them all down…”</p><p>He groaned and rubbed even harder on his stomach.</p><p>“<em> Ooh</em>… I had to take them four at a time…”</p><p>Trucy whistled in amazement.</p><p>“Wow,” she said. “That’s quite a lot to swallow. I don’t know if <em> I </em>could take that many pills at once.”</p><p>“I’m the same,” Luke responded. “I can barely even take <em> one </em> tablet at a time, let alone two! Four at once? I’d choke to death!”</p><p>Layton tried not to laugh at how dramatic his young apprentice was.</p><p>“I’m not a man of medicine,” he said instead, rubbing his chin, “but I doubt that much abrasion on the oesophagus can be healthy. No doubt this man will require another appointment sometime in the near future.”</p><p>“If he’s telling the truth, that is,” Phoenix pointed out, then turned back to the witness stand. “Tell me, Mr Oldfart; do you struggle at all in terms of taking medication in general? Especially when it comes to pills.”</p><p>Mr Oldfart just moaned.</p><p>“There are certain things that become easier at a certain age,” Nosie replied instead. “Swallowing tablets just happens to be one of them.”</p><p>“Although it was… <em> oof</em>…” Mr Wright hadn’t been kidding; Wrenkley really was laying it on <em> thick</em>. “…rather hard to swallow them… in groups of four…”</p><p>The Professor made a quick calculation in his head.</p><p>“If he really did swallow twenty tablets, then that’s five rounds of swallowing,” he concluded. “It would have been rather painful by the end.”</p><p>“I don’t get what you guys are all upset about,” said Phoenix. “Taking pills really isn’t that hard.”</p><p>Trucy frowned up at her father.</p><p>“You don’t get to say that when you just swallow them dry all the time, Dad,” she said.</p><p>“What?!” Luke leapt up from the chair in shock. “Mr Wright, you monster!”</p><p>“Are you quite sure, Mr Wright?” asked Layton. “That sounds frightfully uncomfortable!”</p><p>“Okay, okay!” Phoenix snapped. “The point’s been made! Other people have gag reflexes, I get it!”</p><p>He tutted and sighed as he scribbled down a note in his journal. It was amazing that a person could somehow be able to <em> write </em>angrily at someone.</p><p>“What did you have for your dinner?” he asked once he was done.</p><p>“<em> Oooh</em>…” Wrenkley moaned. “Mmm, it was… roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and gravy… runner beans and mashed potatoes on the side…”</p><p>“Oh, that sounds <em> good</em>,” sighed Luke.</p><p>“That sounds great and I don’t even know what Yorkshire Pudding is!” said Trucy.</p><p>Layton couldn’t help but smile.</p><p>“Next time you have non-instant pancake batter, try baking it in the oven instead of frying it, and then try eating the result with beef gravy,” he explained. “You’re welcome for your new favourite supper.”</p><p>Trucy gave a gasp of delight.</p><p>“Daddy, we HAVE to try that!” She jumped back onto her chair to tug on Phoenix’s arm.</p><p>“Definitely,” Phoenix replied. “But let’s focus on our questions for now, shall we?”</p><p>He scrawled down another quick note, presumably about the potential delicious meal that awaited him in the future.</p><p>“Mr Oldfart,” he said, “is it possible that something in the food could have made you sick?”</p><p>“I beg your pardon?!” cried Nosie.</p><p>“You didn’t just insult my wife’s cooking, did you?” demanded Wrenkley, suddenly sitting up and alert.</p><p>“Bear with me, Mr and Mrs Oldfart,” Phoenix said calmly. “If I understand correctly, Yorkshire pudding is pancake batter cooked in a different manner, and the non-instant kind of pancake batter is made using eggs.”</p><p>He lowered his journal to the bench top.</p><p>“Not only that, but you mentioned beef,” he added. “Mr Oldfart, do you have proof that you don’t actually have salmonella?”</p><p>Nosie gasped in horror, although her expression suggested that she was more offended than anything else.</p><p>“Objection.”</p><p>Phoenix looked across at Michaela, who adjusted her glasses in his direction.</p><p>“I understand your concern, Mr Wright,” she said, “but having shared meals with Auntie Nosie and Uncle Wrenkley on more than one occasion, I can promise you that Auntie Nosie leaves absolutely nothing to chance and will not serve any roast beef if even the slightest hint of pinkness remains in the flesh, with the same thorough treatment being given to her Yorkshire pudding, so there is no chance whatsoever of Uncle Wrenkley having contracted food poisoning.”</p><p>The sound Phoenix made once she had finished talking was somewhere between a sigh and a groan.</p><p>“…right,” he said weakly. “Thanks.”</p><p>“It was a good thought, Mr Wright,” Layton reassured him. “I’m afraid that with what Dr Wallace told us outside, we can rule out a sudden allergy as well.”</p><p>“It does give me another idea…” Luke rubbed his chin in thought. “Is it possible the ibuprofen could have reacted with the contents of Mr Oldfart’s stomach? If he took the tablets right after he had eaten, could that have made him sick somehow?</p><p>“Nah, I don’t think so,” Trucy replied. “If that happened to Mr Oldfart, it’d happen to everyone who took painkiller pills after eating, right?”</p><p>“It sounds like it was a rich and rather fatty dinner,” Luke pointed out, “and if that was combined with all those tablets-“</p><p>“Again, that relies on the premise that he <em> did </em>take twenty pills,” said Phoenix. “Even with this box, we don’t have any tangible proof of that.”</p><p>He tapped on the box to emphasise his point.</p><p>“We may turn up some more proof if we continue the cross-examination,” Layton pointed out. “Shall we proceed?”</p><p>“Yeah, okay…” said Phoenix.</p><p>He wrote down a couple more notes in his journal.</p><p>Layton couldn’t help noticing how ridiculously tightly he was clutching his pencil as he wrote; yes, it was only a pencil, but his knuckles were standing out a stark shade of white. On top of that, his lips were drawn and tight.</p><p>“You say you trusted Dr Wallace’s judgement,” he said, spitting every syllable like it was ash in his mouth, “but if all you had was a bad headache, would you really have needed <em> twenty </em> pills?”</p><p>“You don’t understand…” Wrenkley settled back into his pillows, still rubbing his gut. “…<em>ooh</em>… it was so, so awful…”</p><p>He gritted his teeth and hissed.</p><p>“…and now I have an entirely different pain…” he said.</p><p>“So callous,” sighed Nosie, juggling her cigarette holder in her fingers. “So <em> insolent! </em>How could you even dare ask a question like that?!”</p><p>Phoenix sighed right back.</p><p>“It’s my job to ask questions like these, Mrs Oldfart,” he replied. “I would have thought you’d noticed that by now.”</p><p>“Hmph!” was Nosie’s response.</p><p>“Don’t speak to my wife like that!” Wrenkley snapped, sitting bolt upright again. “Honestly, young people these days! You just all think the sun shines out of your arses, don’t you? Back in MY day, we knew our place in society and all of us gave our elders the respect they bloomin’ well deserved and we didn’t dare question it because we knew it’d get us caned! What do they teach you in America these days? I say scrap that pussy-footed detention system you’ve got going on over there and bring back the cane! Better yet, bring back National Service! That’ll teach you pathetic youngsters how you’re supposed to behave! Whatever it takes, somebody needs to tell you millennials or generation zedders or whatever you bloomin’ well want to be called how you’re supposed to behave in polite society!”</p><p>The rant slammed into the Professor like a hurricane.</p><p>He felt like he needed to catch his breath once it was done.</p><p>“My word!” cried the judge, eyes wide in alarm. “Mr Oldfart, please!”</p><p>Wrenkley suddenly gasped.</p><p>“I-I mean…” He fell back again with another grimace. “…oh… <em> ooh</em>… my stomach…”</p><p>“Hmph!” Nosie huffed. “If you really must know, I should tell you that he didn’t take all of his pills at once. He took them four at a time, it’s true, but he made sure to leave a little time for them to take effect before taking some more, alright?”</p><p>Phoenix tapped the eraser end of his pencil on his journal’s open pages, lips still drawn.</p><p>“Hmm…” he hummed, and looked up. “Your Honour? I’d like Mrs Oldfart’s most recent statement to be added to her testimony.”</p><p>The judge nodded to the suggestion.</p><p>“Very well,” he said. “Nosie, if you would?”</p><p>Nosie rolled her eyes again.</p><p>“Ugh,” she sighed. “I can’t believe we’re letting you continue this farce, but very well.”</p><p>“Nosetta…”</p><p>Wrenkley weakly reached up and took his wife’s hand.</p><p>“…allow me,” he croaked.</p><p>“Wrenkley, darling!” Nosie clutched his hand to her chest. “Please don’t exert yourself!”</p><p>“Don’t worry, my sweet,” Wrenkley replied. “It’ll be fine.”</p><p>He shuffled up in his pillows to bring himself into better view.</p><p>“I left time for the medication to take effect… <em> ooh</em>…” he groaned. “…before taking more. Nosie can… support me on that…”</p><p>Phoenix scrawled out another note on this latest statement.</p><p>“Just to clarify,” he said, “this was at about half past seven in the evening?”</p><p>“I’m not about to repeat myself!” Nosie snipped.</p><p>Not a hint of shock crossed Phoenix’s face.</p><p>“So… yes,” he concluded. “What time did you go to bed?”</p><p>“It was… <em> ooh</em>…” said Wrenkley. “…around ten o’clock in the evening.”</p><p>Hmm.</p><p>
  <em> Interesting. </em>
</p><p>“I see,” said Phoenix, and after one last scribble, he closed his journal. “Thank you for that information.”</p><p>Nosie shuffled awkwardly on her feet.</p><p>“…oh,” she said. “You’re welcome, I suppose.”</p><p>She had no idea, did she?</p><p>“So you’ve noticed it too, Mr Wright?” Layton asked, allowing himself a coy smile.</p><p>“Indeed I have, Professor,” Phoenix replied.</p><p>“Noticed what?” asked Trucy. “What is it, Daddy?”</p><p>From across the hall, they heard the clearing of a feminine throat.</p><p>“Something very important seems to be happening behind the defence’s bench,” said Michaela, “and I wonder if they would be so kind as to share their little discussion with the rest of the court?”</p><p>Phoenix looked up at her with a noticeably smug smirk.</p><p>“It’s quite simple, Ms Skellig,” he said. “This statement contains a critical contradiction.”</p><p>“It does?” asked the judge, eyeing them with curiosity. “Interesting. I assume you have the evidence required to back up your argument?”</p><p>Rather than replying, Phoenix dropped his journal and pencil on the table and rested his hands in his pockets.</p><p>“Nope,” he said.</p><p>“I beg your pardon?!” cried the judge.</p><p>Layton peered out at the court from under the brim of his hat.</p><p>“The statement doesn’t contradict any of the evidence submitted to the court, Your Honour,” he explained. “Rather…”</p><p>He couldn’t help turning his attention to the witness stand.</p><p>“It contradicts a testimony.”</p><p>Nosie’s grip tightened on her cigarette holder. Wrenkley clenched his fists around his bedsheets.</p><p>“A testimony?” the judge echoed. “From whom?”</p><p>“Objection,” said Michaela, adjusting her glasses again. “You will have to forgive me, Mr Layton, as you seem like a very respectable gentleman and I am willing to trust your judgement, but I must confess to my uncertainty as to whether or not such a proposal is even admissible in a court of law and as I would prefer to leave nothing to chance, I request that we-”</p><p>“OBJECTION!”</p><p>Luke slammed his hands on the bench.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Ms Skellig,” he said, “but we can’t turn a blind eye to this!”</p><p>He threw his hand out in his most dramatic point.</p><p>“A contradiction is a contradiction,” he declared, “regardless of any lack of material evidence!”</p><p>Before the onlookers in the gallery had any chance to start chattering, the judge nodded.</p><p>“Very well,” he said. “If that’s the case, how about telling us what this contradiction is?”</p><p>Phoenix responded with a nod of his own.</p><p>“Gladly, Your Honour,” he said, and turned back to the witnesses. “Mr Oldfart, you’ve claimed that you took those pills in increments and that your wife can confirm this fact. Actually, Mrs Oldfart, now that I think of it, you described the manner in which he took his pills as well.”</p><p>“However, Mrs Oldfart,” Layton followed on, “I seem to recall you quite emphatically stating that you, quote ‘can’t watch your husband every second of the day’ and you asked us ‘How am I to know how many of those pills he swallowed?’”</p><p>He released his hat and hoped that his glare at the witnesses conveyed enough frustration.</p><p>“So Mrs Oldfart, I ask you…”</p><p>He couldn’t resist a point of his own.</p><p>“Did you see your husband taking his tablets or not?”</p><p>Nosie’s eyes widened with a gasp and she stumbled against the bed.</p><p>“I’ve told you not to speak to my wife like that!” shouted Wrenkley, spraying spittle over his bedsheets.</p><p>“This isn’t a matter of manners or insolence, Mr and Mrs Oldfart,” Phoenix said sternly. “This is a matter of the truth. Something that I can’t help thinking Mrs Oldfart is a little hesitant to admit to.”</p><p>He slammed one hand on the desk and it shuddered under the force.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart!” he barked, “did you see your husband taking his medication or not?!”</p><p>Nosie stumbled again.</p><p>“I…” she stammered. “I, erm…”</p><p>“May I speak, Mr Wright?”</p><p>All eyes behind the defence bench turned to the prosecution.</p><p>“I’m not going to try to stop you, Ms Skellig,” said Phoenix.</p><p>Michaela leaned back on her feet and twirled her hair around her finger again.</p><p>“You and your little band of defenders have been pressing on this point to quite an impressive degree,” she explained, “and I feel I have no choice but to commend you for such determination, but I feel I must ask whether Auntie Nosie seeing Uncle Wrenkley taking his tablets with his own eyes has any relevance to the matter of whether or not Dr Wallace is guilty or not guilty of malpractice.”</p><p>Layton frowned.</p><p>“We won’t know how relevant it is until we have every last possible piece of information,” he pointed out, and turned back to the witnesses again. “Allow me to ask you again, Mrs Oldfart: did you see your husband take his tablets?”</p><p>“I…” Nosie gasped. “I-I…”</p><p>“Now see here!” Wrenkley slapped on his bed for attention. “I’ve told you before about speaking to my wife like that! Michaela, do something!”</p><p>Then he fell back again.</p><p>“<em> Ooh</em>…” he groaned. “…my stomach…”</p><p>“I am afraid I must agree with the victim,” said Michaela, “and point out to the court that the defence is acting in a highly disrespectful manner, and I ask that they either cool themselves down and speak to our witness and victim in a less insulting manner or I shall be forced to request that this line of questioning be put to a close and possibly stricken from the record.”</p><p>Now it was the judge who was frowning.</p><p>“Much as it saddens me,” he said, “I’m afraid I must agree. Mr Wright, Mr Layton…”</p><p>His eyes narrowed at the defence.</p><p>“…whatever the names of your little friends are,” he continued, “I will allow the defence to ask one final question. If this question fails to turn up any new information…”</p><p>He raised his toffee hammer into view.</p><p>“…I shall declare this cross-examination closed,” he stated. “Have I made myself clear?”</p><p>“Crystal, Your Honour,” said Phoenix.</p><p>His features suddenly flashed with panic.</p><p>“…okay…” he muttered.</p><p>“Do you know what you’re going to ask?” asked Luke, having apparently not noticed that flash.</p><p>“I do,” said Phoenix, keeping his voice low. “I-I have an idea. Can you get that prescription out?”</p><p>Luke nodded and popped his satchel open again.</p><p>“I think I see where this is going,” said Layton, thinking back to their earlier discovery.</p><p>“Go get ‘em, Daddy!” Trucy pumped her fists.</p><p>Luke passed the prescription over to Phoenix, who rested it on the bench in front of them where all four of them could see it.</p><p>“Mr and Mrs Oldfart,” he said, and nodded to the prosecution as well, “Ms Skellig, it’s been made clear by now that the information logged into Dr Wallace’s computer doesn’t line up with the prescription provided as evidence by the prosecution.”</p><p>His eyes darted down to the prescription for the briefest of moments.</p><p>“This is an indisputable fact,” he said, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. “With that in mind, I direct my question at both of the people now on the witness stand and I would like the answer to be as honest as possible.”</p><p>“Ugh, just ask the blasted question.” Nosie rolled her eyes. “We don’t have all day!”</p><p>Phoenix took another deep breath and swallowed hard again.</p><p>“My question is this,” he said. “Did Wrenkley Oldfart really follow the prescription provided to him by Dr Wallace?”</p><p>“Of course I did!” snapped Wrenkley, and then he moaned again. “<em>Ooh</em>… and I’ve regretted it ever since…”</p><p>“Do you think we would even be in this room if he hadn’t?!” demanded Nosie.</p><p>The corner of Phoenix’s mouth twitched. The briefest instantly-vanishing hint of a smile.</p><p>“If he had, then no,” he said. “We would <em> not </em> be here.”</p><p>“I beg your pardon?!” cried Wrenkley.</p><p>“How dare you!” screamed Nosie.</p><p>“Mr Wright,” Michaela spoke up, “I assume this is an assertion that you would not make if you did not have the evidence – physical or not – to prove whatever point you are striving to make, so would you be so kind as to present it to the court?”</p><p>Phoenix rested his fingertips on the prescription, shifting it forward, but that was all he did.</p><p>His eyes fell upon the paper and widened.</p><p>He froze.</p><p>His breathing became slow, yet somehow shallow, and he didn’t move another muscle.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” asked the Professor.</p><p>Phoenix didn’t reply.</p><p>“Mr Wright, what’s wrong?” asked Luke.</p><p>The prescription shifted on the tabletop as Phoenix curled his fingers into a quivering fist. His breathing quickened and his eyes darted from side to side, unfocused and wild.</p><p>“W-what are you waiting for?” Luke leaned forward, trying to see Phoenix’s face. “Just tell them!”</p><p>“Oh no…” Trucy took hold of Phoenix’s arm again. “Daddy?”</p><p>Phoenix still didn’t say a word. His breath came in sharp gasps and his other hand, hanging under the bench, was shaking just as hard as the first.</p><p>“Oh no, not again!” cried Trucy.</p><p>“Mr Wright!” Layton tried. “Can you hear me? Say something!”</p><p>One of Phoenix’s gasps became a choke.</p><p>“…I…” he struggled. “…th-the… um…”</p><p>“Mr Wright, the court is waiting to hear what you have to say,” said the judge, who didn’t have anywhere near as good a view of Phoenix’s face. “If all you have is silence, I will discontinue this line of questioning and have it stricken from the record.”</p><p>Phoenix’s legs gave way and he fell to his knees, still gasping for breath, and hugged one leg to his chest. The Professor wanted to reach out to him, but held back. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to touch him right now.</p><p>“That may be the pertinent course of action anyway, Your Honour,” said Michaela, who couldn’t see anything that was happening, “as it would appear that the defence has found themselves distracted for reasons that he apparently is not interested in sharing, so if you would be so kind as to declare this cross-examina-”</p><p>“Hold it!”</p><p>At the sound of Layton’s voice, the court fell silent, save for Phoenix’s laboured breathing from under the table.</p><p>Layton tried his best not to pay attention to that.</p><p>“It is indeed true that our leader would appear to have temporarily lost his tongue,” he said, “but allow me to speak in his stead while he finds it.”</p><p>“Daddy?” A glance down showed that Trucy was gently shaking her father’s shoulder. “Dad, it’s okay!”</p><p>The judge, thankfully, still hadn’t noticed.</p><p>“Very well, Mr Layton,” he said. “What do you have to show us?”</p><p>Layton picked up the prescription and held it for as much of the court to see as possible.</p><p>“I would like the court to have another look at this prescription,” he explained, and he walked past the struggling Phoenix and over to the judge’s lectern, continuing to speak as he moved. “Specifically, I would like you to have a closer look at the details concerning the dosage.”</p><p>The judge peered down at the paper that had just been laid in front of him.</p><p>“4000mg, 20 tablets,” he read. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”</p><p>“It’s difficult to see,” Layton told him, “but please pay attention to the spacing between the digits.”</p><p>The judge picked the prescription back up and brought it right up to his nose, squinting at the printed numbers and humming in thought.</p><p>“…hm?” He leaned back, eyebrows rising in disbelief. “What’s this? Why are these 0s closer to the other digits than said digits are to each other?”</p><p>“As far as I know, Your Honour,” Luke spoke up, “there’s only one way that would be possible.”</p><p>He thrust his hand out in another fantastically dramatic point.</p><p>“And that’s if the prescription was edited!”</p><p>“W-what?!” the judge exclaimed.</p><p>More chatter rippled around the gallery as Layton took the prescription back and returned to the defence’s bench.</p><p>If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that the tide was turning in their favour.</p><p>“Objection,” said Michaela, her soft voice effortlessly silencing the gossiping gallery. “This is really a rather bold claim, young man, but is it not at all possible that this was a fault of the computer or printer and not anything to do with what I assume you are saying is some third party editing this prescription?”</p><p>Luke adjusted his cap with a confident little smirk.</p><p>“When you type on a computer, all of the characters and digits you type are perfectly even in their spacing,” he explained. “If they weren’t, the text would be very difficult to read, or at least a bit awkward.”</p><p>“The spacing of this typing makes one thing very clear,” said Layton, tapping his fingers on the paper. “After this prescription was first printed, some other person used a scanner to create a copy and change the text to make it look as though Mr Oldfart had been prescribed ten times the amount of ibuprofen that he needed.”</p><p>He allowed himself another point. There was something bizarrely satisfying about the action.</p><p>“Some other person changed this prescription to frame Dr Wallace!” he declared.</p><p>The gossip flared up in the gallery again.</p><p>“My goodness!” cried one onlooker. “What in the world IS this?”</p><p>“Why are you asking me?!” another whispered hoarsely. “I don’t even know anymore!”</p><p>“Did the doctor really get set up?” asked a third villager.</p><p>“I don’t understand!” added a fourth. “Why would somebody do that to Wrenkley?!”</p><p>The judge slammed his toffee hammer again.</p><p>“Order! Order!” he shouted. “I will have order in this court!”</p><p>“Objection,” Michaela said again as the chatter quietened down, and she pushed her glasses up her nose in an oddly condescending manner. “It’s quite an interesting theory, gentlemen, and I commend you for your creativity, but might I enquire as to the possibility that the person who altered this prescription was, in fact, the doctor himself?”</p><p>The Professor responded by shaking his head.</p><p>“I don’t think so, Ms Skellig,” he said, somehow feeling like he was back at work in the university. “That doesn’t make a great deal of sense. Why would Dr Wallace go through the trouble of…”</p><p>Oh dear, what was it again?</p><p>“Luke.” Layton turned to his young apprentice. “Could you please explain the required process?”</p><p>“Of course, Professor,” Luke replied with a confident smile, and he looked over at the prosecution again. “Ms Skellig, what would prompt the defendant to complete the prescription and then use image editing software to alter the text?”</p><p>He tapped on the prescription to drive his point home.</p><p>“I can tell that he didn’t just rewrite the text,” he explained, “because of the spacing problem that we’ve already demonstrated to the court.”</p><p>Michaela’s gentle smile faltered, if only for a moment.</p><p>“I-if it were me,” she managed to say, “and I wished for some method that would, as they say, ‘throw off the scent’ then it’s a course of action that I promise you I would take into consideration.”</p><p>Layton couldn’t help but frown again.</p><p>“Well,” he said, “that’s an awful amount of rigmarole, don’t you think?”</p><p>“I have a question.”</p><p>The voice almost startled the Professor out of his skin, but he managed to hold himself back from showing it and looked up at the friend who had spoken.</p><p>“M-Mr Wright!” Luke cried in alarm.</p><p>“Are you quite well, Mr Wright?” Layton decided he should ask. “You took a bit of a funny turn back there.”</p><p>Neither Phoenix nor Trucy responded, even as Trucy climbed back onto her chair and pulled down the brim of her hat to hide her face.</p><p>“I have a question for either of the witnesses now on the stand,” said Phoenix, staring straight at the stand even though his eyes were still wild and shifting.</p><p>Nosie Oldfart didn’t seem to notice, rolling her eyes and sighing yet again.</p><p>“What?” she demanded. “Ask it!”</p><p>Phoenix’s brow furrowed. He looked as though he would throw a punch the moment he was given an opportunity. His hands were buried in his jacket pockets, but said pockets were visibly shaking.</p><p>“From what I can gather,” he said, “the appointment was relatively standard. Dr Wallace typed up the prescription and gave it to you, correct?”</p><p>“Yes, that’s correct,” Nosie replied, and took a pointless puff on her cigarette holder.</p><p>“So then,” said Phoenix, his voice so low in fury that it was a miracle the witnesses could hear him. “He did <em> not </em> go through the process of printing the scrip, scanning it back into his computer as an image, using Photoshop or Paint or whatever to add in a couple of extra 0s, printing that edited scrip and giving it back to you?”</p><p>Nosie didn’t say a word.</p><p>Wrenkley opened his mouth as though he wanted to speak, but not a single word came out.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart, this is really important!” Trucy added. “Please tell the court the truth!”</p><p>She grabbed Phoenix’s arm again, finally stopping his hands from shaking.</p><p>Nosie, meanwhile, cast her eyes downward.</p><p>“…he didn’t,” she finally admitted. “He printed the prescription and gave it to us. That was it.”</p><p>Phoenix’s nod was slow and contemplative.</p><p>“I thought so,” he replied.</p><p>His voice, however, was buried under a fresh mound of chatter from the gallery.</p><p>“I don’t believe it! I really can’t believe it!”</p><p>“Have they been lying to us this entire time?”</p><p>“I guess the doctor really didn’t do anything wrong…”</p><p>“Have we all just been wasting our morning?!”</p><p>“HOLD IT!”</p><p>The gallery fell silent at the sound of this latest scream.</p><p>Wrenkley Oldfart was on his knees, knuckles white on the foot of his brass bed frame, glaring at Phoenix with eyes flashing with fury.</p><p>“Listen here, you snivelling little whelp!” he shouted, spraying spittle all over the floor. “Maybe he didn’t go through that ridiculous technomological process, but let me tell you! When he printed that bloody prescription, it looked exactly as you see it right now!”</p><p>“But even if no scanning was involved,” the undaunted Luke responded, “it’s difficult to get an effect like that without an image editing program. It seems like an awful lot of extra faff and chaff.”</p><p>“Quite right, my boy,” Layton added. “If the doctor wanted to include those extra 0s, why would he go through the trouble? Why wouldn’t he just type them and have done with it?”</p><p>Phoenix’s nod was slow and patient.</p><p>“Mr and Mrs Oldfart,” he said, “I think it’s time you told the truth.”</p><p>He kept his fists clenched under the bench. Layton couldn’t avoid noticing how badly he was still shaking.</p><p>“I should think it’s become clear to the rest of the court by now,” Phoenix went on regardless, “that this scrip we hold in our hands right now is not a product of Dr Wallace’s creation. On top of that, I don’t think I need to point out the stark difference between the scrip and the appointment details which the doctor entered while said appointment was still in progress.”</p><p>Wrenkley’s skin squeaked on his bed frame as he wrung it in his hands. His breathing was heavy and hissed through his clenched teeth.</p><p>“This scrip was altered at some point following the appointment,” Phoenix reminded the court, “presumably by the same person that Mrs Oldfart has been forbidden from speaking of. With that in mind, I have one more piece of evidence that I would like you to explain to the court.”</p><p>A guttural snarl came forth from Wrenkley’s throat. Nosie, meanwhile, was hugging her cigarette holder to her chest, scowling as hard as she could.</p><p>“Do you now?” she snapped.</p><p>Phoenix slid the ibuprofen box across the bench with a single finger.</p><p>“There’s only one question I want to ask,” he said.</p><p>“Well?” spat Wrenkley. “Out with it, man!”</p><p>“This box right here…” Phoenix tapped on the cardboard with that same single finger. “Was it full before last night? The label says it contained 36 pills.”</p><p>He shoved his hand back into his pocket before anybody could see his fingers trembling.</p><p>“How many were in this box when the two of you were eating your dinner yesterday evening?” he asked.</p><p>“It was full, you fool!” Wrenkley spluttered. “All tablets present and accounted for!”</p><p>“Which brings us to the next question,” said the Professor, speaking up so that Phoenix didn’t have to. “How many tablets did you actually take?”</p><p>“Hmph!” Nosie huffed even though her eyes were sparkling with terror. “Just take a look at the number of tablets left and work it out for yourself! Or did you fail your 3rd year maths class?”</p><p>“It’s math, but whatever,” said Phoenix. “Yes, Mrs Oldfart, it’s true that 20 pills are missing, but how many of those pills made it down your husband’s throat?”</p><p>“I can’t imagine they would be difficult to dispose of,” Layton pointed out. “They could be flushed down the toilet.”</p><p>“They could be tipped away down the sink!” added Luke.</p><p>“You could grind them up and save them to grit the sidewalk when it gets super cold!” Trucy piped up.</p><p>“You get the point,” said Phoenix. “Mr and Mrs Oldfart, please.”</p><p>His point was hard enough to hide how his hand was shaking.</p><p>“Tell the court the truth!”</p><p>Nosie’s snarl rose even further in pitch.</p><p>She opened her mouth and brought up her cigarette holder, again aiming to bite off a piece of that fake cigarette, but before anybody had a chance to stop her, she shoved far too much of it into her mouth and her jaw slammed down on the thin silver rod with a sickening <em> snap</em>.</p><p>Wrenkley, meanwhile, simply sighed and collapsed back onto his bed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Have you calmed down now?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>Nosie shrank even further into her masses of downy coat, unable to look anybody else in the court in the eye.</p><p>“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes we have.”</p><p>“Mr Oldfart, please be honest.” Layton made sure to keep his voice as gentle and patient as he could, there being no further need to antagonise either of these people. “You never suffered from any overdose, did you?”</p><p>Wrenkley sighed and shuffled his feet. His bed had been removed from the hall, seeing as he had no need for it anymore (and never had to begin with, of course) and was likely back at his house by now. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor with his shoulders slumped in defeat.</p><p>“No,” he finally confessed. “No, I didn’t. I only took two pills for my migraine. That was it.”</p><p>Only a few whispers popped up among the gallery. The rest of the village were too shocked to share any kind of audible chatter.</p><p>“Were you telling the truth about this being a fresh box last night?” asked Luke.</p><p>“No, I wasn’t,” Wrenkley admitted. “We’d already used up a full strip weeks back. I only needed to pop out three more to sell the scheme. Flushed ‘em down the loo.”</p><p>Nobody in the gallery seemed surprised anymore. All they had left was disappointment.</p><p>“Can you tell us why you wanted to frame Dr Wallace in the first place?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>Wrenkley withdrew into his skinny shoulders.</p><p>“…erm…” he said nervously.</p><p>“It wasn’t his idea,” Nosie spoke up. “Nor was it mine.”</p><p>“Are we to assume you were following orders?” Layton enquired.</p><p>“I wouldn’t quite phrase it like that,” said Nosie, “but yes. We were told to fake an ibuprofen overdose and pin the blame on the new doctor.”</p><p>Layton shot a glance over at Dr Wallace, who had been watching this chaos unfold in silence for the entire trial. Somehow the man seemed calm, almost relaxed, just sitting there cradling his precious bonsai tree.</p><p>“There are still a couple of gaps left to fill in,” Luke pointed out, “if the two of you would be kind enough to oblige.”</p><p>The old man behind the stand sighed. Somehow removing him from his bed had made him look even more exhausted.</p><p>“Might as well,” he said. “All that groaning was hurting me throat, anyway. Go ahead, son.”</p><p>“Who put you up to this?” Luke asked without a moment’s hesitation. “And why?”</p><p>The elderly couple shared a glance, but that was about it. Neither one of them showed any sign of wanting to make a response to that question.</p><p>“Don’t tell us,” Phoenix groaned. “You can’t say?”</p><p>Nosie hung her head in shame.</p><p>“No,” she replied. “We can’t.”</p><p>“My wife and I are sworn to silence in the name of the Painted King,” Wrenkley said.</p><p>He reached out to Nosie and took her hand.</p><p>“Please don’t ask us about it anymore,” he said softly. “I don’t want my dear Nosetta to wander lost for all eternity when she dies.”</p><p>When he looked up at the defence, his already watery eyes were brimming with tears.</p><p>“Please,” he begged. “I want us to be together in the Otherworld in peace.”</p><p>The plea for sympathy seemed to blow right past Phoenix, who frowned at the couple.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” he asked.</p><p>Layton tapped his hand against Phoenix’s arm, prompting him not to insult anybody more than he already had today.</p><p>“We understand, Mr Oldfart,” he said, maintaining his calm tone. “In any case, you’re out of our hands now. I’m sure further proceedings will be in order once everything here is wrapped up.”</p><p>He cast a look of expectation at the far side of the hall.</p><p>The prosecution hadn’t spoken at all for quite a while now. She simply stood in place, eyes softly closed, curling her hair around her fingers.</p><p>The judge, meanwhile, nodded to the witnesses.</p><p>“Thank you for your honesty, you two,” he said. “Ms Skellig, do you have anything further to add?”</p><p>Still Michaela didn’t say a word.</p><p>“Michaela?” said the judge. “Are you alright?”</p><p>She paused, locks wrapped around her finger.</p><p>“Be not afraid, Uncle Angus,” she said at last, “for I am quite well, but I felt as though I had to take a moment to think on the events that have transpired over the course of this morning and the questions that have been raised as a result of these proceedings, for we know now that no malpractice took place and that Dr Wallace fulfilled his oath and did not hurt a soul, but we do not know why a person in this village decided to use Uncle Wrenkley and Auntie Nosie to frame him for prescribing a crippling overdose and we do not know who this person is, so I can only hope that this guilty party will take responsibility for what they have done and steps forward to admit their wrongdoing and face punishment for their crime.”</p><p>She lowered her hand from her shoulder.</p><p>Phoenix groaned in audible distaste.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” Layton asked curiously.</p><p>“I think that was her longest yet…” Phoenix muttered.</p><p>“At least she’s admitting defeat,” Luke pointed out.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Trucy, slipping down to sit on her chair. “I don’t know if I could take another whole hour of this…”</p><p>“I think you’d need an hour just for Ms Skellig to finish one of her sentences,” Phoenix joked.</p><p>Thankfully the judge didn’t hear a word of what they were saying.</p><p>“Very well,” he said. “Does the defence have anything further to add?”</p><p>“The defence would <em> very much </em> like to rest, Your Honour,” Phoenix groaned, rubbing his eyes.</p><p>“In that case,” said the judge, “I am prepared to hand down my verdict. On the charge of medical malpractice, the court of Fatargan hereby finds the defendant, Dr Bill Wallace, not guilty.”</p><p>Dr Wallace stood up for the rest of the court to see as polite applause rippled around the gallery. The Professor allowed himself a proud smile, but faltered when he saw Phoenix’s face; the man didn’t look happy at all.</p><p>Then again, with what had happened to him earlier, it was difficult to blame him.</p><p>“That is all,” the judge declared as the clapping died down. “This court is adjourned.”</p><p>And for the final time that day, he brought his hammer down on the lectern.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Daddy, we did it!” Trucy cheered as the motley crew were among the last to depart the hall. “I KNEW you could do it!”</p><p>Phoenix rubbed his eyes again. It seemed like he had finally stopped shaking.</p><p>“Man,” he sighed, puffing out a cloud of mist. “I have <em> no </em>idea what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there, Trucy-Goosy.”</p><p>He patted on the top of her hat while she beamed with pride.</p><p>“Thanks for pulling me back,” he said fondly.</p><p>“Mr Wright, are you sure you’re okay?” asked Luke, plunging his hands into his coat pockets to protect them from the cold. “What happened back there?”</p><p>“Indeed, Mr Wright,” said Layton, tipping up his hat to look the taller man in the eye. “I’m curious to know what could have caused you to become so unresponsive.”</p><p>Phoenix frowned again, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact to the best of his ability.</p><p>“Yeah,” he said. “I guess you are.”</p><p>He put his hand back in his pocket.</p><p>Now it was Luke who frowned.</p><p>“…are you going to tell us?” he prompted.</p><p>“Mr Wright? Professor Layton?”</p><p>Whatever conversation was going to come next was halted by Dr Wallace emerging from the hall, still carrying his bonsai in his arms, and he sighed when he saw all four of them were there.</p><p>“All of you, thank you,” he breathed. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to live with myself if I’d been found guilty.”</p><p>He picked a speck of dust out of one eye.</p><p>“Can you even imagine?” he asked as he flicked it away. “If I’d been found guilty and this had gone all the way, I could’ve been stripped of my license!”</p><p>“Yeah, that would suck pretty bad, wouldn’t it?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>“Congrats on your win, Doc!” Trucy piped up.</p><p>“It was our pleasure to help, Dr Wallace,” Layton said with a polite tip of his hat. “I’m very relieved to know that this matter has been cleared up. For the most part, at least.”</p><p>“There’s still the question of who arranged for you to be set up and why,” said Luke, and he groaned with one hand on his cap. “This is going to be bothering me all week.”</p><p>“I’m still bothered right now!” cried Dr Wallace. “That entire trial was ridiculous! I was worried my bonsai was going to shed its leaves from stress!”</p><p>“But he didn’t, did he?” asked Trucy. “Stefan’s totally fine!”</p><p>Dr Wallace’s face somehow fell even further as he looked down at his darling little tree.</p><p>“He is, isn’t he?” he mumbled.</p><p>He ran a finger down one of the branches and lovingly stroked a deep red leaf.</p><p>Then, as if catching himself thinking something awful, he shook his head. Or maybe it was just a reflex because of the cold. This breeze was definitely chilly enough for someone to feel like a person had just walked over their grave.</p><p>“Thank you again, all of you,” he said, looking back up at his quartet of defenders. “It’s a relief to know I won’t have to be shipped back to some noisy city for a bunch of my superiors to decide if I deserve to keep practicing or not. Speaking of which…”</p><p>He pulled his white coat a little tighter around his chest.</p><p>“I think I’d like to get back to my clinic before this wind gives me frostbite,” he grumbled. “Feel free to come to me if any medical emergencies crop up during your time in this village. I promise I’ll keep quiet about whatever ails you and I’ll personally make sure nobody edits your prescriptions.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Lord knows I don’t want any of you thinking you should swallow an entire box of ibuprofen.”</p><p>Layton chuckled. It was a relief to see how quickly the doctor had bounced back.</p><p>“Even if you told us to, I’m sure we all know better than to follow such dangerous advice,” he pointed out.</p><p>“We’re glad to see you’re alright, Dr Wallace,” said Luke. “Let us know if you need any more help!”</p><p>“Trust me, I will,” Dr Wallace replied. “It’s nice to know this village actually has some people in it that I can trust. For now, at least. I’m not sure how things will go once you’ve all buggered off home.” </p><p>“But that won’t be until the next bus comes along,” Trucy pointed out, “so for now, you’re stuck with us!”</p><p>For what could have been the first time all day, Dr Wallace smiled.</p><p>“Indeed I am,” he said. “Again, stop by my clinic if you need anything. I think I should label myself On Call in case any genuine emergencies crop up. Until then, I bid you all <em> adieu.</em>”</p><p>He stepped through the group and started jogging down the steps.</p><p>“Bye!” Trucy called with a happy wave.</p><p>“See you,” Phoenix lazily added.</p><p>“Farewell for now, Dr Wallace,” Layton said with a smile.</p><p>“See you later!” called Luke.</p><p>Dr Wallace held up one hand in a brief wave before continuing on his way.</p><p>Phoenix rubbed his eyes again.</p><p>“Ugh, I think I’m ready to go back to our room,” he groaned. “I need a goddamn <em> nap</em>.”</p><p>The Professor didn’t have to look too closely to see how dark those circles around the poor man’s eyes were.</p><p>“You’re quite welcome to come with us to the rental cottage, Mr Wright,” he offered. “I would be delighted to properly catch up with you over a spot of tea.”</p><p>“We have Bourbon biscuits too!” Luke chirped.</p><p>Phoenix frowned at him in bafflement.</p><p>“Bourbon?” he spluttered. “At <em> your </em>age?!”</p><p>“They’re not alcohol!” Luke laughed. “They’re chocolate biscuits and they’re <em> really </em> good!”</p><p>He rocked on his heels, clearly eager to introduce an American to the wonderful world of English biscuits, but neither of those Americans were anything close to enthused.</p><p>“It’s a really nice offer,” Trucy said, “but I think Daddy needs to have a rest.”</p><p>She hugged Phoenix around his waist.</p><p>“He didn’t have a good time this morning,” she explained.</p><p>Layton thought back to what had happened in the courtroom. He was no psychologist, but he’d spent enough time around anxiety-riddled university students to know a panic attack when he saw one.</p><p>“Yes, I noticed,” he spoke up. “You have me rather worried, Mr Wright. Are you quite sure you don’t need to ask Dr Wallace to take a proper look at you?”</p><p>“Just drop it, I’m <em> fine! </em>”</p><p>Luke flinched in alarm.</p><p>The Professor, for his part, took a step back. He didn’t want to be within range if Phoenix lashed out.</p><p>Thankfully it seemed he regretted that outburst, and he swallowed hard.</p><p>“…sorry,” he said quietly. “I-I’m fine, I promise. I just…”</p><p>He rubbed his face again.</p><p>“…god, I need a nap,” he sighed.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Daddy,” said Trucy. “You can have a good lie down when we get back to our room.”</p><p>“Pardon me, my friends, but may I intervene for just a moment?”</p><p>Phoenix’s face somehow fell even further at the sound of that gentle, musical voice, which was soon followed by its graceful white-clad owner exiting the hall with a sweet little smile.</p><p>“Ms Skellig?” Layton gave another polite tip of his hat. “How may we be of assistance?”</p><p>Michaela clasped her hands together in front of her chest.</p><p>“I want to thank you all for helping us expose the truth of this terrible matter,” she explained, “for if you had not stood up to me so stubbornly, I believe a terrible miscarriage of justice may have taken place and an innocent man would have been arrested and who knows what else for a crime that had never even taken place, let alone that he had never committed.”</p><p>Her latest run-on sentence left Phoenix blinking in confusion.</p><p>“…thanks,” he said flatly.</p><p>“It was our pleasure, Ms Skellig!” said Trucy.</p><p>“Please,” said Michaela, “when we are not in any official capacity, you are more than welcome to simply call me Michaela.”</p><p>It really was hard to tell if that smile of hers was as sincere as she clearly wanted it to come across as.</p><p>“Very well, Ms Michaela,” Layton decided to say. “It’s a relief to know that there are no hard feelings between us.”</p><p>Michaela adjusted her glasses, smile faltering for the briefest of moments.</p><p>“Uncle Wrenkley and Auntie Nosie have always been just a little bit disconnected from the rest of our dear village,” she explained, “but I would never have expected either of them to attempt anything as outrageous as this and I will be sure to speak with them as soon as I am given the opportunity.”</p><p>In spite of her eyes still seemingly being closed, she looked around at each of the four in turn. Luke suddenly flushed when her eyes landed on him.</p><p>“Thank you, Ms- um, Michaela,” he responded, and gave a single tug to his scarf.</p><p>“You in particular were very impressive, young man,” Michaela told him, “as I would never have expected such a spirited defence from a boy of your age!”</p><p>“Oh, uh… heh…” Luke’s smile was far too large as he adjusted his cap again. “It was no trouble! No trouble at all!”</p><p>The poor boy was so distracted that he didn’t notice Trucy sniggering at the sight.</p><p>“Daddy, I think Luke fancies her!” she whispered.</p><p>“He’s a teenage boy and she’s a pretty lady,” Phoenix replied in a voice only Trucy and Layton could hear. “What did you expect?”</p><p>Layton tried not to laugh. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass his apprentice in front of somebody he was sweet on.</p><p>“Is there anything else we can help you with, Ms Michaela?” he asked instead. “I must admit that it was rather a hectic morning.”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Michaela said as she turned back to the Professor, “there is one rather important matter that I felt I should make sure that you and Mr Wright were informed of, and that is that my mother wishes to speak with you both.”</p><p>Phoenix frowned again.</p><p>“Your mother?” asked Layton.</p><p>What kind of relevance did Ms Skellig’s mother have to this exhausting day’s events?</p><p>“She shall be waiting for you in her home,” said Michaela, “which is the building that stands atop the hill across the path leading to the Sacred Well, and if you wish, I shall be happy to lead you to where she is waiting.”</p><p>She pointed at a house – a rather big dwelling compared to the other cottages in the village – that sat on a lower hill than the hall. A large white sculpture of a tree stood by its side, intricate and flourishing and apparently carved from ice.</p><p>“I’d feel weird just walking into some lady’s house when I don’t know her,” Phoenix admitted, “so thanks.”</p><p>“What does she want to talk to us about?” asked Luke.</p><p>“Oh, you have my apologies,” said Michaela, smile slipping away, “but she specifically requested to speak to Mr Wright and Mr Layton, and that the, erm, two children allow themselves to be otherwise occupied so that a private conversation should be allowed to take place.”</p><p>“Huh?!” Trucy’s cry was downright offended. “She wants the Professor and Daddy, but not me or Luke?”</p><p>“What’s that all about?” Luke rightfully demanded. “We’re not little kids! I mean, I’ll admit Trucy’s pretty short, but it’s not like we won’t understand what you guys are talking about!”</p><p>“My apologies,” Michaela said sadly, “but this is the message that I was told to pass along, and I am passing it whole and unaltered, without any intervention from any chicken farmers or users of image editing software and computer scanning technology.”</p><p>Somehow, even though she seemed to have her eyes closed, Layton got the feeling that she was trying to kill him with her gaze.</p><p>“Can’t we even wait outside the office?” asked Trucy, cuddling up to her father’s body.</p><p>“Mother was quite specific with her request,” Michaela replied, “and she and I would be greatly saddened if you refused to oblige.”</p><p>Layton looked up at Phoenix.</p><p>The poor man was exhausted. That much had been made patently clear by now. He looked over at the Professor as though asking for help, but it wasn’t long before he shrugged.</p><p>To refuse this invitation would be rude, wouldn’t it?</p><p>Not only that, but if Michaela’s mother lived in as comparatively large a house as that, there was no telling how much influence she held over the rest of the village.</p><p>The Professor put on his best face and turned to Luke.</p><p>“There isn’t anything to worry about,” he pointed out. “Like you said, you’re hardly a little boy anymore. You’ll be alright if you’re left by yourself for a while, won’t you?”</p><p>“Trucy, how about it?” asked Phoenix. “Want to hang out with Luke for a while? I don’t know how long it’ll take, but this is hardly a big place, so it’ll be easy to find you.”</p><p>Trucy tapped on her chin, barely visible brows furrowed in thought. Luke was busy fiddling with his coat toggles.</p><p>“If playing with little Tim Chanter does not suffice,” said Michaela, hands still gleefully clasped, “you are welcome to explore our football field or the adjoining sports hall, which is the meeting place for our resident team, the Pillagers, as well as a museum to their rich history of victories against competing sports teams!”</p><p>Trucy froze at the suggestion. She was very obviously holding back a grimace of pain.</p><p>“…thanks,” she said nervously, “but I think we’d be fine.”</p><p>“Luke, why don’t you take Trucy to the library?” Layton suggested. “Perhaps you could learn something about this village and its history.”</p><p>He accompanied his proposal with a wink.</p><p>After all, just because they weren’t teamed up for now didn’t mean they couldn’t get any work done, did it?</p><p>Luke blinked in confusion a couple of times, but it didn’t seem long before he understood what the Professor meant by his wink.</p><p>“Sure,” he said, feigning a smile. “Yeah, okay! Come on, Trucy! Let’s go!”</p><p>He took Trucy by the hand and led her towards the steps.</p><p>“You two be careful, alright?” Phoenix warned. “Especially you, Truce. I know this is a new and exciting place to explore, but don’t go falling into any gorges while I’m gone.”</p><p>“Daddy, don’t be silly!” Trucy giggled. “I’m not going to go falling off a bridge!”</p><p>“And don’t run down those stairs!” Layton added as the pair of youths began their descent. “I won’t have either of you slipping on the ice!”</p><p>“We’ll be fine, Professor,” Luke replied. “Do you want to come and find us in the library when you’re done?”</p><p>“That works,” said Phoenix. “You be careful, you two!”</p><p>“See you soon!” Trucy called with a wave.</p><p>She trotted down the steps with Luke hurrying after her, and he caught up to her just in time to catch her when she slipped on a patch of ice at the bottom of the stairway.</p><p>When Layton looked back to Phoenix, he saw the taller man frowning again. His hands had been shoved back into his pockets, but it was hard to tell if those hands were still shaking or if that was just the wind disturbing the fabric.</p><p>“If this matter has been resolved,” Michaela spoke up, “then would you two gentlemen be so kind as to accompany me? I do not wish to keep my mother waiting for any longer than is necessary, and she is quite anxious to meet the two men who have so boldly shaken this village and prevented a severe mistake from being made.”</p><p>Phoenix huffed through his nose and tipped his head back. A gesture usually reserved for those who just wanted the entire world to <em> stop</em>.</p><p>“Well, Mr Wright?” Layton said to wake him up. “We’re being summoned.”</p><p>The poor man rubbed his face again. The Professor cringed at the sight. To see him so exhausted was truly <em> awful</em>.</p><p>“Yeah, fine.” It was heartbreaking to hear him so resigned. “Okay. Let’s go. Let’s see what this lady wants with us, shall we?”</p><p>With one more smile at the pair now assigned to accompany her, Michaela beckoned for them both to follow and started down the steps that led them down and away from the hall.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. At the Mountains of Music part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The heavy wooden door swung open with only the barest high-pitched squeak, and Michaela’s feet thumped softly on the monochrome chequered floor as she led her two companions into her home’s foyer. A pair of red velvet chairs sat in one corner, separated by a matching mahogany side table, set against a stark grey wall. The Professor held his hat to his head as he looked around, taking in the cold sunlight that poured through the iron-framed windows and the deep mahogany beams that propped up the stucco ceiling.</p><p>He saw Phoenix shivering out of the corner of his eye and tried to put it out of his mind as Michaela opened another oaken door.</p><p>“Quite a nice residence,” he commented.</p><p>“Cold though,” Phoenix said as they followed their guide through the next door. “Don’t you guys have heating in this place?”</p><p>The next room turned out to be an office following the same theme of decoration, although this time accompanied by a mahogany desk polished to a mirror shine and bearing impeccably organised stationery. On top of that, a marble fireplace was set into one wall, its mantlepiece topped with photo frames and translucent statues.</p><p>“My mother maintains the belief that a cold mind is a sharp mind,” Michaela explained, “but I would be pleased to light a fire for you both if you so wish.”</p><p>Layton looked down at the fireplace. He couldn’t help but notice the distinct lack of wood. Wherever it was kept, it would leave a mess all over the floor on the way to the hearth.</p><p>“It’s a kind offer, Ms Michaela,” he said, “but there’s no need to compromise your mother’s belief for our sake.”</p><p>Phoenix shivered again and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets so deep that his zip opened from the force.</p><p>“Are you <em> sure </em> about that?!” he demanded.</p><p>Michaela either didn’t notice that outburst or didn’t care.</p><p>“Could I please request that you wait inside her office?” she asked, hands clasped happily. “I believe she may be visiting one of our village’s businesses at the moment, but if you would be so kind as to wait, I shall find her and bring her to you momentarily.”</p><p>The Professor offered her a smile.</p><p>“We don’t mind waiting at all,” he said, and cast his eyes in Phoenix’s direction.</p><p>The man in question gave one last violent shudder and gritted his teeth.</p><p>“No,” he not-so-subtly growled. “I guess we don’t.”</p><p>“Very well,” Michaela said happily and ignorantly, “we shall return soon.”</p><p>And with that, she breezed out of the room, her skirt and coat flowing like wind in her wake, and allowed the door to close gently behind her.</p><p>Phoenix groaned from somewhere in the back of his throat.</p><p>“Seriously?” he hissed. “You don’t want to warm up a bit? This place is <em> freezing! </em>”</p><p>Layton pressed his scarf over his nose and mouth and breathed into it to warm up his face.</p><p>“It wouldn’t do to ignore the customs or beliefs of a place where we are mere guests, Mr Wright,” he pointed out, and rubbed his ear to beat away some of the cold. “I would have thought you’d seen by now that the people of this village are rather old-fashioned.”</p><p>The taller man glared in the direction of the window.</p><p>“But I swear it’s somehow colder in here than it is outside,” he said, kicking his foot back and forth at the floor. “All these tiles don’t help. Would it kill this lady to get a carpet?!”</p><p>He twisted his toes on a black tile as if crushing a cigarette butt.</p><p>The Professor’s gaze wandered around the office. The grey walls were stark and bare, with the windows’ iron frames giving an impression comparable to a prison cell, only tempered by the mahogany and velvet that made up the select few pieces of furniture.</p><p>His eyes fell back upon the mantlepiece, neatly arranged with glassy statues and polished silver picture frames, and while Phoenix rubbed his arms, he stepped closer to take a better look.</p><p>The statues were all of birds with big round beaks. Puffins, it appeared. One was perched on a rock, one mid-flight, one held a beak full of intricately detailed little fish. He could see every tiny eye picked out with what must have been meticulous effort.</p><p>Hmm, didn’t glass fog up when someone breathed on it?</p><p>Layton’s curiosity got the better of him and he wiped a finger over one puffin’s head.</p><p>When he took it away, his glove was… wet?</p><p>Ah.</p><p>Alright then.</p><p>“I think Ms Michaela may have been wrong about her mother’s beliefs,” he concluded, looking over the colourful artwork in the proudly displayed frames.</p><p>“Yeah,” Phoenix said behind him, “I’m definitely not feeling any more sharp-”</p><p>“Not quite what I meant,” Layton interjected before the complaint could be finished. “Look at this. I believe we may have happened upon these ladies’ hobbies.”</p><p>He pulled his scarf over his face again to protect the ice from his breath and peered closer at the flying puffin’s outstretched wings. Every feather in its wings had been picked out, but not in a carving so deep as to disturb the sculpture’s aesthetic smoothness. The way the washed-out light from outside danced around its transparent body was quite fascinating to watch.</p><p>He fought the urge to shrink back as Phoenix joined him at the mantlepiece.</p><p>“Huh,” he said upon noticing the artworks. “Not bad.”</p><p>He picked up one of the frames and ran his fingers over the glass. Layton looked again: they were all watercolour paintings, it seemed, and just like the ice sculptures, every single one of them was of a puffin. One was painted in full colour, another in only layers of grey, one in brilliant shades of pink and blue blended and layered to suggest a larger selection of colours…</p><p>“I like the restricted colour palette in this one,” Phoenix commented, still examining the same frame he had picked up. “Impressive how many different ways orange and blue can be blended, huh?”</p><p>When he rested the frame back in its place on the mantle, Layton noticed the painting within; a puffin happily settled in its nest, painted only in a single shade each of orange and blue. They had been layered and mixed to create greys and browns of quite impressively varied tones, just like Phoenix had said.</p><p>“Looks like it’s some pretty heavy paper too,” Phoenix added, shoving his gloved hands back into his pockets. “No wrinkling at all. Good thing it’s not canvas. Watercolours are a <em> bitch </em> on canvas.”</p><p>Layton hesitated.</p><p>Those were <em> not </em> the words of an amateur. Only somebody experienced in fine art would understand the necessity for heavy paper and the drawbacks of using canvas, wouldn’t they?</p><p>“Mr Wright,” he said, not trying at all to hide his appreciation, “I had no idea you were artistically inclined!”</p><p>Phoenix remained silent.</p><p>Rather than explaining the cause of his artistic knowledge, as the Professor had hoped he might, he just looked across the mantle at the perfectly aligned sculptures that neither of them dared to touch any more.</p><p>“Ah, I see what you meant,” he said. “Ice sculptures.”</p><p>He leaned back from the mantle and tapped on his chin.</p><p>“I think I saw this lady working on that tree outside yesterday,” he recalled, and pointed to one side with his thumb. “No wonder it’s so damn cold in here. Wouldn’t want to light a fire and melt them all…”</p><p>He trailed off as his eyes wandered around the room again, ultimately settling on the desk.</p><p>“…is that a safe?”</p><p>“Where?” Layton looked around the room again, trying to see what Phoenix had just suggested.</p><p>“Down there.” Phoenix pointed at the side of the desk that was set against the wall. “Part of the desk. Looks like there’s a safe instead of legs or drawers or whatever.”</p><p>The Professor saw what he was indicating. It was, indeed, a very solid-looking box of metal that held up that end of the desk. It faced away from them, and Layton held himself back from examining the other side because he knew how ridiculously rude that would be, so he settled for kneeling down and knocking on its surface with his finger.</p><p>The resulting thuds didn’t echo very much. This really <em> was </em> a solid construction.</p><p>Movement caught his eye and he saw that Phoenix wasn’t nearly as gentlemanly as he had reminded himself to be.</p><p>“You aren’t going to try to open it, are you?” he asked.</p><p>“Hell no,” Phoenix replied. “No way I’m getting myself arrested in <em> this </em> village.”</p><p>Layton straightened himself back up and cradled his chin.</p><p>“Come to think of it,” he said, “I don’t believe I’ve seen any police officers around Fatargan. There’s certainly a police station, but I can’t recall seeing anybody in or around it.”</p><p>He looked over at Phoenix again, who had thankfully moved out from behind the desk.</p><p>“Where do you suppose they could be?” he asked.</p><p>Phoenix shrugged.</p><p>Just shrugged and idly looked around the room, eyes glazed over, as if he was about to fall asleep.</p><p>The Professor turned away, forcing his frustration down into the pit of his stomach, and wandered over to the window to look outside.</p><p>He could see down the hill to the street below, its houses neatly lined up as if they were toys positioned by some gigantic overseer, but dwarfed by the immense rock face that loomed above them. He leaned forward and yes, he could see over it, but the sky was dull and cloudy and a cold shade of pale grey.</p><p>The rock face itself glistened with ice in the washed-out light. The roofs of the houses down below sparkled right back, save for the chimneys that puffed out smoke into the freezing air.</p><p>“It’s a nice view,” Layton commented. “Yes, there’s a cliff, but it’s a nice view of the cliff.”</p><p>He leaned down a little lower and to the side, following the cliff’s edge as it ran along to his left and dipped almost to street level before rising back up in a frighteningly sharp slope. A few spots of dull grey branches were barely visible within that little dip, but the Professor almost didn’t notice because at the top of that sharp slope, he could see a cave opening.</p><p>A rather wide cave opening. Practically stereotypical. The sort of cave opening a small child draws before they have a chance to explore mountainous terrain and see what an <em> actual </em>cave can look like.</p><p>And right at its mouth was a set of stone pillars, propping up not only the cave’s roof but a selection of larger, flatter stones that had been carefully laid atop them. Perhaps the smallest henge Layton had ever seen in his life.</p><p>Were there any sort of living arrangements up there? It was impossible to tell from this distance.</p><p>It looked like the perfect location to stand and play music for the entire village to hear.</p><p>“That must be the Pictish Shrine that was mentioned during the trial,” Layton thought aloud. “I do hope there’s a safe way to get up that mountain. I would <em> love </em> to have a closer look.”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Phoenix said somewhere behind him. “You’re an archaeologist.”</p><p>Layton quietly laughed at his remark.</p><p>“You know,” he chuckled, “it’s remarkable how many people forget that. Did you know an entire village’s worth of people once kept mistaking me for a detective?”</p><p>“I do now.”</p><p>That was all Phoenix said before he went back to lazily staring around the room, seemingly looking at everything except Layton.</p><p>The Professor in question couldn’t avoid crossing his arms in annoyance.</p><p>“Mr Wright-” he started.</p><p>The door opened before he could get any further.</p><p>“Sorry to have kept you waiting, gentlemen.”</p><p>The woman who stepped into the room was dressed in deep, dull shades of grey – grey turtleneck, gunmetal grey glasses, matching grey blazer and skirt – even her eyes were a deep, steely grey that narrowed as she turned her gentle smile between them both.</p><p>“Good afternoon,” she said, and paused to push a pin into her honey-blonde bun before straightening herself back up. “I’m Angela Skellig, the mayor of our dear little village. I hear that the two of you have already met my daughter?”</p><p>Layton uncrossed his arms and offered a polite little tip of his hat.</p><p>“Indeed we have,” he responded. “She’s a fine woman, Mrs Skellig-”</p><p>“Not ‘Mrs’, Professor Layton.”</p><p>Phoenix shifted back from the desk, eyes wide in alarm, as the newcomer walked over to it and ran her fingers over the polished mahogany.</p><p>“Even if you were to survey all the mountains,” she said as she sat down, “you’ll never find <em> any </em>Mr Skellig.”</p><p>She pointed her hand at the two chairs positioned in front of her desk, and Layton took the hint and sat down.</p><p>“Nor would you, Mr Wright,” she said.</p><p>The Professor forced himself not to admonish Phoenix for staring as he took the other seat.</p><p>“So you already know who we are, huh?” the taller man asked.</p><p>The woman – Angela, the Professor reminded himself, but not <em> that </em> Angela – rubbed one of the small braids that framed her head between her fingers.</p><p>“Professor Hershel Layton,” she stated, a coy smile playing around her lips. “Accepted into the faculty of Gressenheller University at the age of 27, the youngest person ever to do so. Made headlines with the discovery of the Golden Garden of Misthallery and the lost civilisation of Ambrosia in the Bay of Biscay, as well as aiding Scotland Yard with a number of criminal investigations. Most recent claim to fame is co-starring on Time Team. And Phoenix Wright…”</p><p>She reached into her blazer, pulled out a smartphone and held it up for them both to see.</p><p>“Could you please tell me why all I can find of you is that you’re a lawyer?” she asked.</p><p>Layton tried not to cringe. He just <em> knew </em> that Phoenix was shrugging again.</p><p>“You didn’t search for me as thoroughly as you did the Professor,” he simply responded. “That’s why.”</p><p>Angela gave him the smile she had been holding back.</p><p>“Do you really think so?” she asked. “Or is it more that you just don’t have any claim to fame?”</p><p>Oh no, he was shrugging again, wasn’t he? Couldn’t this man at least <em> try </em> to look like he wanted to be polite?</p><p>“What can I say?” he said. “I’m not a headliner.”</p><p>“I assume, Ms Skellig,” Layton spoke up before Phoenix could embarrass himself any further, “that you wish to speak with us concerning the events of this morning. I can’t think of many other reasons why you would call us to your beautiful office.”</p><p>“Beautiful, you say?” Angela covered her mouth and laughed; tinkling and musical, just like her daughter. “Mr Layton, I’m flattered!”</p><p>“From what I’ve heard, ice is not an easy material to work with or maintain,” Layton continued, “but those sculptures of yours are most impressive.” He turned to look at the mantlepiece again. “Are we to assume the watercolour paintings are your daughter’s?”</p><p>“You are,” said Angela, beaming with pride. “She’s such a talented girl, isn’t she? I’ll never be able to understand how such beauty could be possible with only a few little brush strokes.”</p><p>Her smile faded and she looked down sadly at her interlaced fingers.</p><p>“I tried my hand at watercolours once,” she told them, “and all I made was a mess!”</p><p>“Not all of us are talented in the same field, I’m afraid,” the Professor agreed. “I’ve made a name for myself as an archaeologist and an investigator, but sit me down in front of a video game console and prepare to be disappointed.”</p><p>Angela smiled again, soft and grateful.</p><p>“So what do you want to talk to us about, Ms Skellig?” asked Phoenix, in such a way that Layton could tell he had just rolled his eyes. “If you’re upset that I beat your daughter, I am <em> not </em> going to apologise. Even if I’d already known you, there’s no way I was going to throw a trial for the sake of nepotism.”</p><p>Now her smile took on a different edge. It was rather difficult to read. Was she impressed? Was she angry?</p><p>“I wouldn’t have had it any other way, Mr Wright,” she told him. “In fact, I want to commend you for your determination this morning.”</p><p>Remembering the breakdown, Layton tried to mask his worry as he looked over at Phoenix. The man himself swallowed hard and cleared his throat in barely-hidden fear.</p><p>“Determination, huh?” he said.</p><p>“Yes, of course,” said Angela. “Although why the matter wasn’t immediately brought to my attention, I have no idea.”</p><p>She leaned back in her chair and her eyes flickered to the window.</p><p>“I could have settled Mr Oldfart’s troubles in a heartbeat,” she told them. “There really wasn’t any reason for Nosie to organise what I can only imagine may have become a lynch mob had you not intervened.”</p><p>She sighed and repocketed her phone.</p><p>“You have my sincerest apologies, gentlemen,” she said. “I hope what you saw earlier hasn’t coloured your view of our dear little town.”</p><p>Layton gave her another smile.</p><p>“Not at all, Ms Skellig,” he responded. “The suspicion and anger was very much understandable. It would have escalated either way, so I’m glad we could steer that escalation down a more civil path than…”</p><p>He cleared his throat. Better that than to say what he was thinking.</p><p>“Well, any alternatives I would dare to name,” he decided upon.</p><p>Angela sat up straight again.</p><p>“Indeed, Mr Layton,” she said, “and I’m very grateful for your and Mr Wright’s actions. It’d certainly be a shame if something bad befell our new doctor, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>From by his side, the Professor got a sense of sudden alertness. He glanced over and sure enough, Phoenix was frowning, and he seemed a good deal more awake than he had a few moments ago.</p><p>“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it would be.”</p><p>The mayor nodded. Her smile seemed grateful, but something about her seemed… Layton wasn’t sure how he would describe it. Strange? Bizarre? Uncanny?</p><p>“However,” she said regardless, eyes flickering between them, “I’ll admit there’s something I can’t help being curious about concerning the two of you.”</p><p>The Professor nodded in what he hoped she would know was understanding.</p><p>“We are prepared to answer any questions you may have, Ms Skellig,” he told her.</p><p>“I’m glad to hear it,” said Angela, “although it really all boils down to just one question.”</p><p>She leaned her elbows on her desk and rested her head on her interlocked fingers.</p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>Layton hesitated.</p><p>He kept up his best poker face while his hand, fortunately hidden beneath her desk, crept into his pocket. The folded-up dossier was still there from yesterday – from his and Luke’s efforts of touring the village in search of anyone who might have information about their missing man – but would this woman be willing to tell them anything she knew?</p><p>If, indeed, there was anything she knew?</p><p>“Why does it matter?” Phoenix asked beside him, and Layton restrained the urge to slap him upside the head.</p><p>“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that Fatargan isn’t exactly a large community,” Angela pointed out. “With a climate as harsh and cold as this, it never quite has been.”</p><p>She twisted a photo frame on her desk to face them both; it bore a photo of something that looked like the bell tower, but its body held a large metal cage and it was topped by a gigantic pulley. A mining lift, by the looks of things.</p><p>It was surrounded by a grand total of three people.</p><p>“Even when it was a coal mining town,” Angela said, “the populace was noticeably sparse. Part of the reason the mines were shut down was that the commute to work alone was enough to leave the poor miners exhausted!”</p><p>“With a bus ride as long as that,” said Phoenix, “I can totally believe it.”</p><p>Angela nodded and turned the frame back around.</p><p>“So I’m curious what’s brought you to our little hideaway in the mountains,” she remarked, and turned her eyes to the Professor. “I can understand, Mr Layton, if all you’re interested in is the Painted King and His history in this village and its people, but Mr Wright…”</p><p>She looked over at Phoenix.</p><p>“Surely you didn’t come here expecting to stand as defence in a trial, did you?” she asked.</p><p>“I didn’t even come to this <em> country </em> looking to defend in a trial, Ms Skellig,” Phoenix said bluntly. “I’m here on vacation with my daughter. If there’s anyone you should ask about why I’m here, it’s her.”</p><p>His frown deepened, eyes narrowing in accompaniment.</p><p>“But you wouldn’t let her or the Professor’s apprentice come with us,” he said.</p><p>The mayor cocked her head in curiosity.</p><p>“…are you suggesting…” she said slowly, “…you don’t even know why you came to Fatargan?”</p><p>In spite of his obvious determination, Phoenix’s gaze faltered.</p><p>“I-I mean…” he tried.</p><p>“Mr Wright’s daughter is quite young, Ms Skellig,” Layton interjected, giving Angela a gentle smile, “and I’m sure you understand that little girls can be especially persuasive.”</p><p>“Oh goodness, I certainly do,” the mayor said wistfully. “All Michi has to do is look at me and I’m putty in her hands!”</p><p>“So she <em> does </em> look at people?” Phoenix asked in a voice loud enough for only Layton to hear.</p><p>Again, Layton suppressed the urge to slap him. It was like he <em> wanted </em> all of this to fall apart.</p><p>“But then that raises the question of what sparked your daughter’s interest in Fatargan, Mr Wright,” Angela pointed out. “I haven’t exactly advertised our village to the world. We’re a mere blip on the radar. Were it not for our modern-day satellite technology, nobody would even know Fatargan existed.”</p><p>Her gaze became an angered glare.</p><p>“What does a little girl want with a tiny little town hidden away in the Cairngorm mountains?” she asked.</p><p>“Again, go ask her,” said the nigh-unflappable Phoenix. “She hasn’t told me. I don’t know.”</p><p>Angela leaned back in her chair again, rubbing one of her little braids between her fingers.</p><p>“You don’t know why she wanted you to come to our village…” she pondered. “And yet the pair of you are on holiday together? I can’t imagine her mother would be pleased about the pair of you appearing so distant.”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t say anything this time. His only response was another almost imperceptible falter in his glare.</p><p>Satisfied nonetheless, the mayor turned her attention to the Professor.</p><p>“And what of you, Mr Layton?” she asked. “If it’s the Painted King you’re curious about, you’ll find everything you need to know in our town’s library. We don’t have an extensive collection, it’s true, but the history of Our Lord is among the most accurately documented of any supposed deity this world has to offer.”</p><p>So the Painted King was some kind of god to these people, was he?</p><p>“You certainly know how to make a tempting offer, Ms Skellig,” Layton told her.</p><p>“What can I say?” Angela said happily. “I am this town’s mayor, after all, so my duty is to sell us to visitors as much as I can.”</p><p>“However,” said Layton, “unlike Mr Wright, I can’t say I’m here for the sake of leisure. I’m here on official business.”</p><p>“Ah, I understand,” Angela replied. “I shall have Henry send everything we have about the Painted King to the rental cottage and spare you the pain of lugging it all across the bridge.”</p><p>The Professor reached deeper into his pocket, curling his fingers around the folded paper.</p><p>“Again, you make a tempting offer,” he said, “but my business is not of the archaeological sort this time.”</p><p>Angela sat up straighter. He had piqued her interest, it seemed.</p><p>“I see,” she said. “Then are you here to have a look at our old mines? I’m afraid there really isn’t much in there you could find, aside from perhaps an untapped vein or two.”</p><p>“I’m here to conduct an investigation, Ms Skellig,” Layton explained. “I received notification several days ago of a somewhat prominent figure who disappeared in this region, yet searching through the past months’ worth of newspapers hasn’t turned up any indication that anyone knows that he vanished.”</p><p>He gently tugged the dossier out of his pocket.</p><p>“You say that,” said Angela, adjusting her glasses, “but you also say that you received notification? So it’s clear that <em> someone </em> misses this person.”</p><p>“Someone, perhaps, whose spirit is willing but wallet is incapable,” Layton pointed out. “It pains me to say that not everyone can make the arduous journey that Mr Wright and I completed yesterday.”</p><p>Phoenix yawned almost as if to punctuate the point.</p><p>“Or perhaps they simply felt they wouldn’t be up to the task,” the Professor suggested. “You did mention that I’ve made a name for myself due to my investigative prowess.”</p><p>The mayor chuckled at his comment.</p><p>“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” she recalled.</p><p>Layton unfolded the dossier and spread it out on the desk for her to see.</p><p>“This is the man I’m here to search for,” he told her. “Have you seen him, by any chance?”</p><p>Angela leaned forward and peered down at the photograph stapled to the dossier. She picked up the paper and held it closer to read the name written at the top of the page, pushing up her glasses again and giving a little hum of thought.</p><p>Just as it seemed she was about to speak, she laid the paper down again.</p><p>“Not recently,” she said, and pushed it back to him. “I’m very sorry, Mr Layton, but his is a face that I haven’t seen at all in the past few weeks. Nor is that a name I’ve heard spoken anywhere in our village.”</p><p>The Professor folded the dossier back into quarters and returned it to his pocket.</p><p>“I understand,” he replied. “Thank you, Ms Skellig.”</p><p>“I shall make sure to notify our local police officers of your search,” Angela offered. “I do hope it goes well, Professor. It’d be a shame if anything had happened to such a handsome young man, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>“Yes,” Layton said, glancing sideways at a visibly uncomfortable Phoenix. “It certainly would.”</p><p>“And Mr Wright…”</p><p>She looked over at Phoenix again, who shuffled in his seat, eyes flickering from side to side.</p><p>“Yeah?” he said, trying to sound casual.</p><p>“Do you intend to help Mr Layton at all?” asked Angela. “Surely this mysterious disappearance would have caught your attention, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>Layton hoped his look towards Phoenix seemed like nothing more than a turn of attention. If there was any chance of him reacting like he had on the bus yesterday, and he was already clearly stressed from the trial earlier…</p><p>“…maybe,” Phoenix said simply.</p><p>The Professor thanked Claire again for his hat. It was perfectly masking the sweat that was no doubt beading on his forehead by now.</p><p>What a relief that Angela didn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable either of them were.</p><p>“Very well,” she said, and gave them another nod. “Thank you for agreeing to speak to me on such short notice, gentlemen.”</p><p>Layton stood up and wiped his brow, hiding it with an adjustment of his hat.</p><p>“It was our pleasure, Ms Skellig,” he told her as Phoenix got up and stretched his back. “I do hope we’ve convinced you that our intentions in your village are entirely benign.”</p><p>Angela laid her crossed hands on her desk.</p><p>“You must forgive me for my worries and suspicion,” she said. “We so rarely have tourists or out-of-town detectives coming to our sweet little Fatargan, so I simply <em> had </em> to check that the pair of you weren’t planning anything… shall we say, untoward.”</p><p>“Nothing of the sort,” said the Professor. “I assure you that you have nothing to fear from either of us.”</p><p>“Indeed, Mr Layton.” Angela rested her head on one hand with a smile. “And thank you so kindly for those lovely compliments on the creations of Michi and I. I’m sure she’d be delighted to know that such a famous scholar as you showed appreciation for her dear puffins.”</p><p>Phoenix shoved his chair aside and turned away from the desk.</p><p>“Kind of had to,” he quietly grumbled. “Puffins are all she’s painted.”</p><p>Thank goodness the mayor hadn’t heard that.</p><p>“Oh, Michi?” she called towards the door. “Could I borrow you for just a moment?”</p><p>The door swung open and Michaela swept into the room, straight-backed and polite as ever.</p><p>“How may I help you, Mother?” she asked.</p><p>“My meeting with Misters Wright and Layton has concluded,” said the mayor, gesturing to her two guests. “Would you be so kind as to show them the way out?”</p><p>“Of course, Mother,” Michaela responded with a nod, “I would be delighted!”</p><p>She beckoned for Layton and Phoenix to follow her out of the office, so the two men obediently began to move after her.</p><p>When they were halfway to the door, Angela spoke again:</p><p>“Good day, gentlemen. Do enjoy your stay, won’t you?”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t say a word.</p><p>Layton, meanwhile, looked back over his shoulder.</p><p>“Good day, Ms Skellig,” he replied.</p><p>He turned back and followed Michaela out of her mother’s office.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The clouds overhead were still thick and such a pale shade of grey that they were almost white, and the cold breeze that blew them through the sky carried a strange taste of tin.</p><p>Phoenix shivered again and tried to plunge his hands deeper into his pockets as Michaela closed her front door and started down the ice-covered steps to the street.</p><p>“Your mother is quite an interesting woman, Ms Michaela,” Layton told her as they followed her downwards.</p><p>“Isn’t she though?” asked Michaela, and although she had her back to them both, it was clear she was clutching her hands to her chest. “I pray that my artistic creations will one day match her own, as in comparison to her lovely frozen carvings, my watercolours are rather silly and amateurish.”</p><p>Layton glanced sidelong at Phoenix again. It seemed as though he wanted to say something, but he was keeping his tongue firmly held.</p><p>“It’s clear that she cares very deeply for not only you, but the rest of this village as well,” the Professor said to Michaela instead. “It’s quite an admirable trait for a mayor to possess.”</p><p>“It pleases me to hear you say that, Mr Layton,” Michaela said happily, and she held open her hands to the village they were descending to. “What you say is true; my mother adores each and every citizen of our dear little mountain hideaway and she sees that we live, grow and happily flourish under the watchful eyes and within the loving embrace of the Painted King. It is His guidance that allows us to prosper in what would otherwise be such a hostile environment and His gifts, bestowed on us as light, colour and music, that let us experience lives rich with artistry and happiness.”</p><p>She closed her hands as they reached the foot of the steps and turned back around to the two men, her face alight with a beaming smile.</p><p>“I see,” was all the Professor could think of to say. “And if we wished to learn more about the Painted King, we would go to the library, correct?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Michaela replied, “and do let me know if you find yourself enlightened by His rich history and how He allows us to live in contentment and harmony!”</p><p>She ran between them both and trotted back up the steps to her mother’s house. </p><p>Layton found himself following her with his eyes, all the way up those steps, until she stepped through that immense door and disappeared.</p><p>“So are we in agreement that whole goddamn meeting was shady as hell?!”</p><p>The Professor leaned back from Phoenix in alarm at his hissed outburst. Phoenix himself was leaning forward, eyes wide and desperate, teeth gritted, and a glance back up at the house put his discomfort on full display right there.</p><p>It was tempting to ask him to calm down, but Layton was too surprised to do so.</p><p>Not only that, but Phoenix was actually <em> initiating </em>a conversation with him.</p><p>Layton took a deep breath and hoped it went unnoticed.</p><p>“I wouldn’t have phrased it quite like that,” he replied, “but yes. I can’t deny that the behaviour of the Skelligs is noticeably suspicious.”</p><p>“Suspicious?!” Phoenix whispered hoarsely. “<em>Seriously? </em> Did you even hear what that lady was saying?! ‘It’d be a shame if something happened’? That’s a threat!” He pointed up at the house like it had insulted him. “That’s just a threat in a fedora and trenchcoat! We spent this whole morning trying to convince this village of Dr Wallace’s innocence and she just suggested…”</p><p>He paced back and forth, rubbing the back of his head under his hat.</p><p>“I-I don’t even know what she was suggesting!” he spluttered. “But I could tell it wasn’t good, alright?!”</p><p>His head whipped around. He was checking to see who was watching them.</p><p>The Professor couldn’t blame him for his paranoia, although it was definitely a relief to be out of that freezing office and outside in the fresh air, cold though it was. Phoenix had actually been right. It <em> was </em> warmer out here than it had been in there.</p><p>“Her behaviour did seem a little odd,” he agreed, thinking back on how uncomfortable he had felt as the mayor tried to probe him. “I’ve been to any number of towns and villages around Great Britain, but never once have I ever been summoned by the mayor simply to explain why I’m there.”</p><p>He held himself back from spilling the beans about the time a mayor’s <em> son </em>had summoned him.</p><p>“The only time I can recall something like that happening,” he continued, “was when we were both in Labyrinthia.”</p><p>“Yeah, and we both know what THAT guy turned out to be,” Phoenix said, pausing in his pacing. “I didn’t want to bring it up, but…”</p><p>He looked over his shoulder again.</p><p>“…this whole place is giving me a creepy vibe,” he hissed. “You think it might just be the cold?”</p><p>A glimmer of white caught Layton’s eye.</p><p>A snowflake?</p><p>He held his hat to his head and looked up. The tinny scent carried on the wind had grown stronger.</p><p>The scent of snow.</p><p>He wanted to think that it lent the village around them a picturesque quality, like the postcard had become a snow globe, but that meeting they had just departed – and what he had seen from the kitchen window last night – seemed to have rendered him unable to appreciate Fatargan’s aesthetics anymore.</p><p>“No,” he said, “I think this village is quite strange as well.”</p><p>He pressed his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, taking care not to crumple the dossier.</p><p>“The community certainly seems tight-knit to the point of being impenetrable,” he said, making sure he kept his voice low in case anybody was watching or listening, “but I can’t say that surprises me given how small the population is. However, all this talk of the Painted King is…”</p><p>What was a way of phrasing it that wouldn’t seem insulting?</p><p>“Well, it’s a little odd, to say the least,” he concluded.</p><p>“It’s like ants, isn’t it?” asked Phoenix, resuming his pacing. “It’s like seeing ants on a pavement. You only need to notice one and suddenly you’re seeing them everywhere. Nobody mentioned the Painted King yesterday but come today and nobody can shut up about whoever the heck he is! You noticed it too, right? It’s <em> weird! </em>”</p><p>“Yes, that’s strange as well, I agree,” Layton replied. “If I didn’t know any better, I would assume it was some kind of secret they had tried to keep from us both, and once Mrs Oldfart had mentioned it during the trial, the cat was out of the bag and there was no point in trying to hide it anymore.”</p><p>Phoenix stopped pacing again. He briefly put his hand back in his pocket, but soon brought it out again. It seemed like he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with himself. Hard to blame him, considering the circumstances.</p><p>He sighed and pinched his brow.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I’m sorry I’ve been kind of a jerk to you. I don’t want to be that. I don’t want to be a jerk, but I’m really trying my hardest not to freak out because I’m in a strange place and I don’t know why and the people here are all acting really weird and I just had to present evidence I knew was fake and I’m <em> cold</em>. I’m really, REALLY cold.”</p><p>His shiver this time was his most violent yet. He kept his face downcast. Bowed in shame?</p><p>Perhaps the best thing to do would be to try to take his mind off things. This poor man clearly had <em> far </em> too much weighing on his mind.</p><p>“Consider this, Mr Wright,” the Professor said. “How much worse would it be if we were in a hot climate?”</p><p>Phoenix withdrew into his shoulders.</p><p>“…good point,” he said softly. “I mean, with heat, there’s only so much you can do before you run out of options.” He shrugged yet again. “You take off as much clothing as possible but what then? Do you take off your skin? At least with cold, I could just…”</p><p>His eyes wandered down the street to the ivy-coated façade of the King’s Arms.</p><p>“…put on another jacket, I guess.”</p><p>He rubbed his upper arms for warmth.</p><p>Layton tried not to frown at the sight. Phoenix was so much taller than him – far taller than the Professor would be comfortable admitting – but right now, shivering in the snow, he looked almost as small as Luke had as a child.</p><p>Almost as small as he had back in that hall when his daughter, desperate for his attention, had gripped him by the arm and reminded him to breathe, just <em> breathe </em>…</p><p>“Are you sure you’re quite well, Mr Wright?” Layton asked cautiously. “Can you tell me what happened to you during the trial?”</p><p>Phoenix’s hands went back into his pockets, his shoulders more hunched than ever before.</p><p>“I…” he struggled to say. “…I don’t…”</p><p>“It’s alright,” the Professor assured him. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable.”</p><p>His shivering was getting worse.</p><p>“…thank you,” Phoenix said. “I don’t think I’m ready for you to hate me yet.”</p><p>Layton didn’t hold back his frown this time.</p><p>So he’d been pushed that far into the depths of depression, had he?</p><p>Well, here and now wasn’t quite the time or place to unpack what he had said. Perhaps later, if he could be persuaded to sit down with a cup of tea…</p><p>“What do you propose we do about Ms Skellig?” Layton decided to ask. “I have a feeling that confronting her directly about what she obviously knows about our missing man would be a rather unwise decision.”</p><p>Phoenix finally looked down at his face.</p><p>“So you noticed it too, huh?” he asked.</p><p>“She claimed to have not seen him within the past few weeks,” the Professor recalled. “Not that she hadn’t seen him at all.”</p><p>“Have you had any luck with the other villagers?”</p><p>“Every one of them claims to have not seen him and that they don’t know who he is. I can’t verify the authenticity of this Yatagarasu’s claims, but the mayor’s words have me questioning some of those claims, to say the least.”</p><p>He looked up at the house atop the hill again, half-expecting to see a blonde-framed face peering down at them through one of those prison-like windows.</p><p>“How can you even concentrate on this?” asked Phoenix. “You don’t think this place is creepy? What that Michaela woman was saying about the Painted King, i-it was giving off some <em> major </em> cult vibes. I feel like asking anybody else in this village about what she was telling us would end with us getting drugged in the night and our hearts cut out in someone’s basement.”</p><p>Layton stared up at his friend’s impassive face.</p><p>“I do hope you aren’t sharing these thoughts with your daughter,” he said.</p><p>“Ugh, hell no,” Phoenix groaned. “I’d prefer it if only one of us was having nightmares, thanks.”</p><p>The Professor rubbed his chin. It was strange how that always seemed to help him think.</p><p>“Ms Skellig asking us why we’re here…” he considered. “I have a feeling she doesn’t want us in her village.”</p><p>“Too bad for her, huh?” Phoenix said with a wry smile. “Unless you think we should try walking back to civilisation, we’re waiting a few days until the next bus comes along.”</p><p>He tipped his head back and looked up at the clouds as if only now noticing that it was snowing, and he held up a hand to catch a few flakes before sighing and swatting them away from his face.</p><p>“How do you think Luke and Trucy are doing?” he asked.</p><p>“I’m sure they’re fine, Mr Wright,” Layton replied, making sure to keep his tone level and gentle, “but I understand your concern. Would you like to go down to the library and make sure they’re alright?”</p><p>Phoenix rubbed his eyes on the back of his hand.</p><p>“I’m in a place I’ve never been before,” he said, “in a country I’m not fully familiar with, surrounded by people who act weird and whose intentions are unclear. I think I’d prefer to know that my daughter is safe and alive. I’m sorry, I know we both trust Luke, but I think I’d like to see that Trucy is safe with my own eyes.”</p><p>“Yes, of course,” said Layton. “I understand. Let’s go to make sure they’re alright, shall we?”</p><p>“Yeah. Thanks.” Phoenix shrank in on himself again. “Again, I’m sorry, I…” He went back to rubbing his head. “I’m not quite the guy I was a couple of years ago. I don’t know if I could be if I tried.”</p><p>The Professor gave him his friendliest smile.</p><p>“We all change, Mr Wright,” he pointed out. “Especially if we go through something terrible.”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t respond. Only shoved his hands into his pockets again.</p><p>“Come along, then,” Layton said. “Let’s see how the kids are doing.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Luke closed the door as quickly as he could as soon as he and Trucy were inside. From the smell of the freezing wind outside, it was going to snow rather soon. The longer they could stay in here and away from the cold, the better.</p><p>“Okay,” he said, and sighed in relief as he loosened the top of his coat. “Let’s see what we can find.”</p><p>“Why do you think the mayor didn’t want us around?” asked Trucy. “You don’t think she’s going to hurt our dads, do you?”</p><p>Luke froze.</p><p>“The Professor isn’t my dad!” he snapped back.</p><p>“Uh-huh, sure,” said Trucy with a smug little smirk.</p><p>“I already have a different dad and he’s great!” Luke argued. “Sure, I mean…” He couldn’t avoid tugging on his scarf again. “The Professor does act like a father sometimes and I do think he’d make a great dad if he ever had kids of his own, but I’m not one of those kids!”</p><p>“If you say so~” Trucy cooed in a sing-song voice.</p><p>A sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan pulled itself out of Luke’s throat.</p><p>“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” he told her. “Unless something ridiculously diabolical was going on, Ms Michaela wouldn’t have made sure we knew where they were, would she? Plus…” Oh dear, he could feel his face getting warm. “…she seems like a nice lady.”</p><p>“A lot of people seem nice, but then it turns out they killed someone,” Trucy said casually. “That’s what my Daddy says.”</p><p>Luke hesitated again.</p><p>“…does he now?” he asked.</p><p>“Yup,” said Trucy, tapping her chin in thought. “He says that anybody who acts sweet and innocent, like Ms Michaela does, either they’ve been sheltered and spoiled their entire lives or they’ve killed at least three people. Maybe four.”</p><p>Luke had to remind himself not to stare.</p><p>How old was Trucy again? Ten?</p><p>How on earth could Mr Wright have thought such ridiculous stereotypes were sensible to share with such a young girl?!</p><p>But the way it was stated… it seemed almost like Phoenix had experience with that sort of thing…</p><p>“…I know it’s debatable whether Ms Michaela’s attitude is sincere,” Luke managed to say, “but <em> yikes</em>. What kind of people has Mr Wright been spending time with?!”</p><p>Trucy tapped her chin again.</p><p>“I’m not all that sure,” she replied. “He doesn’t like talking about back when he was a lawyer.”</p><p>Well, there was all the confirmation Luke needed.</p><p>“So he really isn’t a lawyer anymore?” he asked. “What happened?”</p><p>His young friend’s face fell. Her fingers lowered and she fiddled with her little green brooch.</p><p>“I… um…” she said nervously. “I don’t think he’d be very happy if I told you. It’s kind of personal. I think I’d be… um…”</p><p>Wow, she really was worried, wasn’t she?</p><p>“Betraying his trust?” offered Luke.</p><p>Trucy’s fingers closed around her brooch.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said. “Something like that. Dad doesn’t like people talking about him behind his back anyway.”</p><p>“It isn’t something a gentleman would do…” Luke considered. “Alright. Let’s get back on track.”</p><p>He leaned to one side and looked into the shady sets of bookcases. Just the sight of so many old tomes made him want to sneeze.</p><p>“We should try to find out everything we can about this person Mr and Mrs Oldfart were sworn to secrecy in the name of,” he said. “I have a feeling it’s pretty important.”</p><p>“What did they say he was called again?” Trucy walked into the aisle between the dusty shelves. “Paint King?”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure it was the Painted King,” Luke recalled, and instinctively reached for his satchel. “I wish I still had that map so I could check.”</p><p>He squinted down at the labels on the shelves. It was hard to tell if things were arranged by the Dewey Decimal System or if Mr Edwards had conjured up some system of his own. Luke crouched to look at one bottom shelf and saw a plate reading “Geography” in fancy calligraphy nailed to the case, with one further along that said “Botany”.</p><p>Luke frowned. Quite a puzzling decision. Why have a section of books dedicated to plants in a climate where greenhouses and unwavering dedication were needed for any sort of horticultural success? Yes, there was Dr Wallace’s bonsai, but that was different!</p><p>Wasn’t it?</p><p>The next shelf up bore the labels “Law” “Economy” and “Politics”.</p><p>Just reading those plates made Luke want to yawn. He knew for a fact that these law books wouldn’t be anywhere near as interesting as getting to watch Mr Wright in action.</p><p>Or doing it himself.</p><p>Luke felt giddy at the thought. The thought that he’d been on the defence bench objecting and pointing and slamming the desk rather than just offering advice like he had last time. He’d even been told that he was <em> good </em> at it.</p><p>Maybe…</p><p>…maybe it was something to consider for the future…</p><p>“Hang on, it says it right- whoa!”</p><p>Trucy’s voice dragged Luke out of his mind and back into his body.</p><p>“What?” he asked as he straightened up. “What is it?”</p><p>“That whole shelf up there!” Trucy pointed at the top shelf of the case she’d been examining. “It’s labelled ‘The Painted King’! A-at least I think it’s the whole shelf. The other shelves have lots of labels on them, see? But that one-”</p><p>“Just one label,” Luke noticed. “I guess we hit the jackpot, huh?”</p><p>Trucy hummed in thought.</p><p>“Don’t you think it’s a bit weird though?” she asked. “That we found that so quickly?”</p><p>“Not necessarily,” said Luke. “Maybe the people in charge of knowledge about the Painted King want to make sure people get to learn about him.”</p><p>He cupped his chin and he tried to get a look at the books sitting on that shelf.</p><p>“I just wonder…” he said.</p><p>“How are we going to reach up there?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Exactly,” Luke confirmed. “Neither of us are what we could call tall, are we? I don’t think Mr Edwards would like it if we climbed on something to reach…”</p><p>He leaned to look back at the little reading area near the front door. There weren’t any chairs or tables there. Just a couple of bean bag seats stacked in a corner and a plush rug spread in front of the fire. Nothing on the other side either, from the looks of things.</p><p>Luke moved to the edge of the shelves and looked around. He still couldn’t see anything usable.</p><p>“Could we stack some books and stand on them?” Trucy suggested.</p><p>“No,” Luke said firmly. “Mr Edwards would throw us out if we tried that. Heck, I’d throw me out too! No way I’m doing that to a book! Can you imagine how badly we could damage the cover by standing on it?!”</p><p>He looked up at the top shelf again. It would be a bad idea to climb the shelves like a ladder, wouldn’t it? They’d risk bringing everything down on top of them. Mr Wright would never forgive him if Luke got his daughter crushed to death.</p><p>“I have something that might be able to reach,” said Trucy, “but I don’t know if his arms are strong enough to hold those books. They look pretty thick and heavy…”</p><p>She tapped on her chin again.</p><p>“Man, why aren’t there any ladders here?” she complained. “Aren’t tall bookshelves like this meant to have ladders?”</p><p>“Come to think of it,” Luke said in realisation, “where is Mr Edwards, anyway? Shouldn’t he be here?” He jogged back to the end of the aisle to look around. “I guess he usually is so he can help people when they’re in this situation…”</p><p>“What about those fire tools?”</p><p>“Nope. Covered in soot.”</p><p>Luke walked back to where Trucy still stood, staring up at the shelf as if hoping to burn the wood down to their level.</p><p>“Good call though,” he told her. “I wonder if we could use something to reach up there rather than stand on something?”</p><p>Trucy tore her gaze away and looked around like he’d been doing.</p><p>“No stools or chairs either,” she grumbled. “Man…”</p><p>Luke cupped his chin again.</p><p>What was it Mr Wright said to do in a bad situation? Turn the thinking around?</p><p>Yes, rather than standing on something to reach up to the shelf, he should find some way to reach it <em> without </em> risking falling over and bringing all those shelves down on them. Reach up there, like he’d said. But what could they use to do that?</p><p>What could he lift up that would be able to get down a single book without toppling the shelves or damaging the books?</p><p>It would have to be something with hands… something that could be gentle…</p><p>He found his gaze wandering down to Trucy.</p><p>She was quite small, wasn’t she? But she didn’t look heavy at all…</p><p>“Trucy,” said Luke, “I have an idea.”</p><p>“You do?” Trucy said happily.</p><p>“Those books all look pretty old,” Luke told her. “Grab the one that seems like it’d be easiest to understand.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>Before she had a chance to object, Luke grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up to the shelf, screaming all the way.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“What the heck?!” she cried. “Luke, what do you think you’re <em> doing?! </em>”</p><p>“Which one looks like it’d be easiest to understand?” Luke asked, positioning her in front of the shelf and ignoring how his arms complained. “When it comes to a new subject, it’s best to start simple and work up to the complicated stuff!”</p><p>“So, um…” Trucy grabbed his hands for security. “So, like, stuff that’d just give the cliff notes?”</p><p>“I don’t know what that is, but sure!” Luke jabbered, trying not to groan from the effort. Yes, Trucy was small, but she was still an <em> entire human being </em> that he was holding in nothing more than his bare hands.</p><p>“O-okay,” said Trucy, taking hold of one of the books. “There’s one called- it says ‘The Painted King: A Simplified Summary’.”</p><p>“That’s perfect! Grab it, quick!”</p><p>“Got it!”</p><p>Luke couldn’t avoid a groan of relief as he lowered Trucy down to the ground again, and a deep sigh as he shook the feeling back into his arms.</p><p>Then he saw the size of the book she was holding.</p><p>He’d seen cinder blocks that looked less heavy than that thing. She was already struggling to keep her grip on it in her tiny arms and he kneeled down to take it from her before she dropped it.</p><p>“This is a summary, huh?” he couldn’t avoid saying.</p><p>“It’s something, right?” Trucy pointed out.</p><p>“Yeah, good point,” said Luke, running his fingers over the gold lettering embossed on the cover.</p><p>He flipped the cover open and turned a few pages.</p><p>“Oh, thank goodness,” he sighed. “I was worried it was going to be handwritten! Let’s see…”</p><p>He turned the book over and opened it up to the last few pages.</p><p>“Yes!” he cheered. “There’s an index!”</p><p>“Okay! Great!” Trucy grabbed him by the arm. “Let’s take a look!”</p><p>She pulled him to the little reading area and slapped a beanbag down onto the thick plush rug, and Luke gratefully collapsed onto it and opened the back of the book as Trucy laid down beside him.</p><p>He cast a glance sideways at the flickering flames. They weren’t spitting out many sparks, but still…</p><p>“…is it a good idea to have a fire in a library?” Trucy wondered.</p><p>“In a place as cold as this, you won’t find me complaining,” Luke lied. “Okay, let’s see…”</p><p>He flipped back to the index and tried not to cringe at how tiny the text on the pages was, and how tightly it was all packed onto the paper.</p><p>“What’re we looking for?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Uh…” Luke wracked his brain in search of an answer. “…anything?”</p><p>Trucy frowned at him.</p><p>“I don’t know if ‘anything’ is a great place to start,” she pointed out.</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right,” Luke sighed. “And there’s a lot here, huh?”</p><p>He continued flipping through. This index was far, far thicker than he would have preferred.</p><p>“Shall we have a look at what the contents page lists?” he suggested, and started flipping the pages to the front.</p><p>“That’s a pretty big index for a simplified summary,” said Trucy. “Huh? Wait!” She grabbed Luke’s hands to stop him flipping and turned back through the pages. “What’s that?”</p><p>“What’s…”</p><p>Luke trailed off when he realised what she was talking about. A loose sheet of paper slotted into the book.</p><p>“A note?”</p><p>He pulled it out to take a better look at it. It was covered in scribbled writing, with a bright yellow tab stuck to one edge of the page.</p><p>“I don’t know about a note,” said Trucy, shuffling closer. “It looks more like a page out of someone’s journal.”</p><p>“No, no, look.” Luke pointed out the tab. “See this? I’d say it’s from some kind of organiser…”</p><p>“Someone was taking notes on this book?” Trucy turned back to the pages it had been stuck between and her face fell. “Oh no, the ink smudged on the pages!”</p><p>Meaning the ink had still been wet when this note had been hidden, so it must have been put there in a hurry…</p><p>Quite lucky that they had chosen this specific book, now that he thought about it.</p><p>Then again, the title did imply that this was supposed to be easy to understand, so it made sense that someone else might take it as their first option, wouldn’t it?</p><p>“We can worry about that later,” he decided, and flattened out the page so they could read it. “Let’s see…”</p><p>The writing was in swirling cursive and reading it was a challenge, but enough concentration and the curls of ink became legible:</p><p> </p><p><em> Painted King = God (odd since there’s no church in this town) </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Town is haunted? Violin music for ghosts? </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Townspeople call the player ‘The Minstrel’ </em></p><p> </p><p>Luke frowned.</p><p>All of that made sense with what he’d already heard, but that didn’t make it any less strange, did it? The way the townspeople behaved… Mr and Mrs Oldfart being sworn to secrecy in his name…</p><p>“So these people think the Painted King is God?” he thought aloud.</p><p>“But I haven’t seen any churches around here,” Trucy pointed out. “This guy noticed it too. Do you think they use the hall? Like they did with that trial?”</p><p>Thinking back on that place, the only thing that could imply such a possibility was that stage. Even then, it seemed more for performances than preaching. Town hall stages were the place for 6-year-old dance students to perform Swan Lake and the Nutcracker with music played by an elderly woman on a piano and their parents ignoring the No Cameras stipulation to take photos and film for their relatives.</p><p>No pulpit, no altar, no idols… the only thing close was the lectern that had been pulled out to serve as the judge’s bench.</p><p>“I didn’t see anything that might imply that,” Luke decided, and turned back to the note. “It looks like whoever this was, they think this town is haunted too.”</p><p>“Too?” He looked up to see Trucy staring at him in bafflement. “How do you mean ‘too’? You think there are ghosts here?”</p><p>“It’s…” Would it be worth telling her about the seeing stone and what it had allowed him to see last night? “…it’s a bit hard to explain.”</p><p>He looked back at the note.</p><p>“Violin music for ghosts?” he read aloud, thinking back on the music he’d heard echoing through the mountains last night.</p><p>“So this Minstrel guy is some performer who only plays music for people who’re already dead?” Trucy sounded utterly aghast. “That’s… that’s really sad! I would hate performing for people who aren’t there!”</p><p>“…I don’t know about that…” Luke mumbled under his breath.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“Nothing! Let’s look at the next part!”</p><p>The next section of writing looked as though it had been added some time after the first. The writing was smeared in some places and blotched in others and was overall a lot less neat than the first part. Added in a hurry, it seemed.</p><p> </p><p><em> Town is extremely haunted </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Spirits are dangerous when bothered (?) </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Violin music keeps them calm </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Every night? </em></p><p> </p><p>The last line had been underlined several times.</p><p>The violin music kept them calm…</p><p>“The Minstrel’s music really is for ghosts, huh?” Luke pondered.</p><p>“The town really is haunted?” asked Trucy. “But I don’t think we’ve seen any ghosts or spirits or anything!”</p><p>“Hang on a sec.”</p><p>Luke pressed himself up to his feet and snatched the stone out of his coat pocket. He pressed it to his eye and peered around the library, but nothing seemed to be different, so he ran to the window and looked outside.</p><p>The only people he could see out there were fully alive, by the looks of things.</p><p>“What are you doing?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Last night, when I looked through this stone,” Luke said, and ran back to kneel down in front of her and show her the stone, “I saw the town full of…”</p><p>She took it from his fingers and turned it over in her hands.</p><p>“They <em> looked </em> like ghosts,” Luke settled upon, “but I’m not really all that sure what they saw. I can’t see any of them now. Not even when I look through this thing.”</p><p>Trucy looked up at the window above them.</p><p>“Can you hear any music?” she asked.</p><p>Luke dashed to the door and leaned out.</p><p>All he could hear was wind whistling through the windows and an occasional spark of distant chatter. Not even the slightest hint of music.</p><p>“No, I can’t hear anything,” he reported, and he leaned back in and closed them off from the cold. “So the music’s only at night? Maybe that’s when the ghosts come out?”</p><p>Trucy squinted down at the paper.</p><p>“I mean, it does say ‘every night’ and not every day or all the time…” She picked up the note and held it closer as Luke sat back down beside her. “It’s a bit hard to tell though. This fancy joined-up writing is really hard to read.”</p><p>She lowered the paper with a frown.</p><p>“Hey, Luke?”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Can we really trust this? This random note in a book?”</p><p>Luke took the paper from her fingers.</p><p>A thought occurred to him and he flipped the book back to its index, scanned through the ‘S’ section until he reached ‘spirits’ and turned through the pages until he found all the sections in this so-called summary that mentioned that word.</p><p>One page mentioned ‘nightly spirits’.</p><p>Another said ‘spirit army’.</p><p>And another page carried an illustration not unlike the scene Luke had witnessed last night. Strange black silhouettes of humans, apparently wandering aimlessly under a streetlamp, their forms only vaguely recognisable as people.</p><p>A monochrome photo beneath it showed a violin made of dark wood.</p><p>Luke didn’t bother reading any of the surrounding text. He already knew it would be confusing.</p><p>“It’s pretty clear the note was made based on what’s in this book,” he concluded, and looked over the note again. “I wonder why Mr Edwards didn’t take it out?”</p><p>“He didn’t find it, I guess,” said Trucy, pulling the paper into her view. “Wait, look at this last bit!”</p><p>She tugged the paper so that they could both see the last, most smudged section of writing on the page.</p><p> </p><p><em> Painted King’s army </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Spirits v. dangerous </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Capable of vehicular vandalism </em> <em><br/></em> <em> No wa </em></p><p> </p><p>“…no wa?” Trucy read. “Did they get cut off?”</p><p>“Seems that way,” said Luke, and he flipped through the book back to the index’s ‘A’ section. “An army, huh? Vehicular vandalism?”</p><p>“Does that mean the ghosts damaged a car?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“I guess so,” was all Luke could think of to say.</p><p>There, under the ‘A’s, was the word ‘army’ with a long list of page numbers following it. A <em> lot </em> of mentions in this book. Far more than Luke felt comfortable with.</p><p>“…hey, Luke?”</p><p>He pulled himself away from the index long enough to look to his companion.</p><p>“Do you think maybe this note was written by…” Her expression was thoughtful, yet worried. “…by that guy you and the Professor are looking for?”</p><p>It was tempting to add “the guy you won’t say how you know” but Luke got the feeling she wouldn’t like that very much. He looked down at the note again and the smeared cut-off that was most likely trying to say ‘no way’.</p><p>“It does give rather a ‘last known communication’ feeling,” he agreed. “Yes, I think we should hang onto this. I have a feeling it might be important.”</p><p>He opened his satchel and slipped the note inside, and pulled out his own journal – the one he kept specially for puzzle-solving on his adventures with the Professor – as an afterthought.</p><p>“Do you think we could use it to know what to look for in the book?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Of course!” said Luke. “Okay, it looks like ‘army’ crops up quite a lot, so it might take a while to compile all this information in a way we can all understand…”</p><p>“Hey, Luke?” Trucy got to her feet and stretched her shoulders. “Do you want to take a look by yourself? I kind of want to see if that librarian you mentioned is around here somewhere.”</p><p>The vibe given off by this book at the note they’d found inside it had Luke wishing he could say no, but he didn’t want to look too paranoid in front of his new friend. There wasn’t anything gentlemanly about frightening children.</p><p>“Don’t wander off too far, okay?” he requested. “Your dad will kill me if something happens to you!”</p><p>Trucy responded with a happy little salute and scampered away into the shelves.</p><p>Luke tried to put his worries out of his mind and turned back to the book.</p><p>There were too many pages labelled as mentioning the word ‘army’ and when he turned back to the Contents page, there was an entire chapter called “The Painted King’s Army”. No way did Luke have time to read all of that, so he turned back to the index and held the section between his fingers.</p><p>He flipped to the first of the pages that mentioned the word.</p><p>‘…an army of spirits gathered from those that perished in the past, present and future…’ read one passage.</p><p>Luke swallowed hard at that notion as he wrote in his journal about an army of ghosts. He didn’t like the idea that he could run into the spirit of someone who hadn’t even died yet.</p><p>Was the writer just trying to seem scary or poetic?</p><p>It was just coming across as confusing.</p><p>‘…aiming to serve the interests of our Painted King, striking out at any living persons outside once the sun goes down if not soothed by the Minstrel’s playing.’</p><p>
  <em> Spirits are dangerous when bothered/Violin music keeps them calm </em>
</p><p>Luke jotted these notes down in his journal.</p><p>If he was reading this correctly, this spirit army attacked people who were outside at night unless they had some kind of spectral lullaby played for them on a violin.</p><p>But there was the question of whether this was even real, wasn’t there? The Professor had made that quite clear. He added another note:</p><p> </p><p><em> Spirits seen may just be pareidolia. Extra info needed. </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Violin music influence somehow? </em></p><p> </p><p>Violin…</p><p>He turned back to the index and this time aimed for its ‘V’ section and found, to his relief, that not many pages were labelled ‘violin’. Turning back to the contents list, he found a chapter called ‘The Silver Violin’ and flipped to the appropriate page.</p><p>Oh no, there was still a <em> lot </em> of writing in here…</p><p>Time to go back to the index and see if he could find what was most relevant.</p><p>Maybe one of those other books had the sort of information he was looking for, but there was no way he wanted to relive the fiasco he and Trucy had shared trying to retrieve this one volume.</p><p>He was running his eye over the list of words when another caught his eye.</p><p>‘Worship’</p><p>Flipping back, he noticed some others.</p><p>‘Dedicate’</p><p>‘Pure’</p><p>‘Outsiders’</p><p>‘False god’</p><p>Luke swallowed again.</p><p>There wasn’t a single thing here that showed signs of being something good.</p><p>“…this is so strange…” he muttered to himself. “I don’t like the vibes I’m getting from this…”</p><p>As he closed the book, the word ‘cult’ wormed its way into his mind, and he quickly made one other note in his journal and hoped that nobody else in the village ever asked to have a look at what he had written:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fatargan/Painted King religion = a cult? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was the only conclusion that made sense, but he made sure to include the question mark because, as had been pointed out during that trial earlier, a conclusive explanation couldn’t be reached until every last piece of information had been gathered.</p><p>But still, this book… it seemed less like a non-fiction source of information and more like it was trying to be some kind of Bible.</p><p>And in this strange place, Luke had allowed a little girl to walk off by herself…</p><p>“Trucy?” he called into the shelves. “Trucy, are you still in there?”</p><p>“Right here!”</p><p>Oh, <em> thank goodness</em>. She came trotting out of the shadows with a cheerful little smile and her hands clasped behind her back.</p><p>“I found a sign,” she reported, bouncing to a halt in front of Luke. “Librarian says he’s gone to lunch.”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Luke sighed. “I guess it’s the afternoon now. Wow…” He looked up at the cold sunlight streaming through the window. “This has <em> really </em> been a long day.”</p><p>“Can I see what you’ve got?” Trucy kneeled down on the rug.</p><p>“Of course,” said Luke, and he turned his journal for her to see. “I want to make sure you’re kept in the loop. You’re in this investigation too, after all.”</p><p>He waited, holding his breath, as her blue eyes scanned over what he had written. Had this been a bad idea? What if everything he was telling her here just ended up frightening her?</p><p>When she got to the end of the page, she frowned.</p><p>“…a cult?” she read.</p><p>“Yes,” said Luke, releasing his breath. “I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s the only logical conclusion I can come to. I don’t know who started it or who’s in charge, but that’s what seems to be happening. It would explain why all the townspeople seem so weird towards us and why Mr and Mrs Oldfart were so eager to keep quiet. I really wish the buses were more frequent now, because I <em> seriously </em> want to get out of here.”</p><p>It was only when he finished talking that he noticed Trucy’s frown had turned from his writing to his face.</p><p>She opened her mouth and asked a single question:</p><p>“What’s a cult?”</p><p>Shock ran through Luke like electricity.</p><p>She didn’t…? No, of <em> course </em> she didn’t know. Of course Phoenix wouldn’t tell such a young girl what a cult was. Luke hadn’t known what a cult was at her age, had he? No, at ten years old, he’d been far more concerned about things like his town getting attacked by an otherworldly monster that turned out to be a robot driven by a madman in a cape…</p><p>Luke cringed again. When it was put like that, he couldn’t help wishing he had been as innocent as Trucy was at that age.</p><p>“Um…” How could he explain this in a way that wouldn’t frighten her? “You know religions?”</p><p>Trucy nodded. Of course she nodded. Even one of the spoiled, sheltered people she had mentioned earlier would know what a religion was.</p><p>Luke looked around them, checking that nobody was watching, and beckoned her in so that anybody who <em> was </em>watching wouldn’t be able to hear.</p><p>“A cult is a religion that’s small and secret,” he explained, keeping his voice low. “Sometimes they’re a lot more dedicated to their religion than other people are to theirs. They can do some pretty dangerous stuff and quite often, there’s brainwashing involved. They can make people do things they otherwise never would, like marry someone they don’t know very well, or someone who’s way out of their age range, they’ll kidnap or hurt people, or they might say you can make a living selling non-FDA-approved protein shakes.”</p><p>He made sure not to mention that everything he’d just said was what he had learned from TV, movies and various stories he’d read.</p><p>Trucy still seemed either confused or sceptical, given how she was quirking her eyebrow at him.</p><p>“You get the point, right?” asked Luke. “I think something like that might be happening here. This Painted King thing?” He tapped on the book’s cover where the title was printed in gold. “I think it’s a cult. And I don’t know what we can do about it.”</p><p>To his relief, Trucy nodded. Luke concluded then and there that he definitely made a better lawyer than a teacher.</p><p>“I guess we can talk to the Professor and Daddy about it, right?” she asked.</p><p>Luke swallowed again. With what he had discovered and what he now suspected, the odds were good that the Professor and Trucy’s Daddy were the only people in this town they could trust.</p><p>Aside from Dr Wallace, of course. His healthy scepticism was reassuring.</p><p>“I guess,” he replied.</p><p>“And what’s this word?” asked Trucy, pointing at the open page. “Parry-dolly-a?”</p><p>“Pareidolia,” Luke clarified. “The Professor told me about it. Your brain searches for patterns and familiar shapes in unfamiliar things, and pareidolia is when you see faces where there aren’t any. Have you ever looked at the front of a car and thought the headlights and radiator grille looked like a smile or a frown?”</p><p>“Oooh, I get it!” said Trucy. “Seeing things that look like people in things that aren’t people! Like how a drawing of a face technically isn’t a face, but we can’t help seeing it as a face?”</p><p>“Exactly!” Luke exclaimed.</p><p>Trucy pushed herself back up to her feet.</p><p>“Kind of like this?”</p><p>Before Luke had a chance to react, she put one hand behind her back and then, from beneath her cloak, there erupted a flourish of red and black that snatched her hat out of the air where she had bounced it to and slotted it onto its head.</p><p>“GAH!” Luke struggled not to scramble back into the fireplace in shock. “Where the heck did THAT come from?!”</p><p>“Say hello to The Amazing Mr Hat!” Trucy said with a proud grin.</p><p>Luke knew he must look like a fool, staring up at this wooden puppet with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, but he was too distracted by its sudden appearance and the fact that Trucy had been hiding it despite it seemingly being <em> bigger </em> than her to spare a moment of consideration for his poor, neglected dignity.</p><p>He managed to pull himself up onto his knees, in any case, and he picked up and closed his journal to clutch to his chest for security.</p><p>“…hello…?” he choked.</p><p>“Go ahead, Mr Hat!” Trucy said happily. “Why don’t you say hello to Luke?”</p><p>“Hello to Luke!” The puppet’s head and jaw flapped like a pedal bin in reverse, speaking in a voice that was clearly Trucy’s, but she hadn’t moved her mouth at all!</p><p>Luke tried to get to his feet, but he couldn’t raise himself any further than a crouch.</p><p>“…is this…” All words had escaped his mind. “…is this a puppet?!”</p><p>“Mr Hat is my best trick!” Trucy chirped. “He’s a hit at the Wonder Bar where I do my performances. Isn’t he great?”</p><p>Her friend tried to cough the frog out of his throat.</p><p>“If by great you mean extraordinarily alarming,” he spluttered, “then yes, he’s great! He’s, um…”</p><p>He straightened up, brushed down his coat and took a closer look at this Mr Hat. The head was perfectly cylindrical and the cut of its mouth was fully horizontal, but Luke still got the feeling it was smiling at him. Perhaps it was that little curvy moustache or the eyes it had been given?</p><p>“He’s a, um…” Luke tugged at his scarf as if doing so would help him speak. “A very impressive example of what I suppose we could call pareidolia. Only a few rough scribbles on carved wood, but that’s definitely a face, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Absolutely!” said Trucy. “He’s based on my Daddy!”</p><p>Luke swallowed his confusion, or at least tried to, at the idea that this thing was meant to look like Trucy’s father. As far as he knew, Mr Wright didn’t have any moustache and <em> definitely </em> had hair. Yes, it was hard to tell with this thing wearing a hat, but Luke could recall Phoenix’s spikes being visible from every angle when he didn’t have that beanie on.</p><p>“Oh yes,” he said nonetheless, “I can see the resemblance…”</p><p>Trucy giggled. Her voice sounded a million miles away.</p><p>“Are you okay, Luke?” she asked.</p><p>“Straighten yourself up, young man!” Luke leapt back in horror as Mr Hat spoke again.</p><p>How on earth was she making it speak? Where was the mechanism?!</p><p>“I’m fine,” Luke choked. “I-I’m fine, he…” He cleared his throat. “Mr Hat just caught me off guard, is all.”</p><p>He tried to put this bizarre puppet out of his mind and kneeled down in front of Trucy.</p><p>“But listen, Trucy,” he said. “Do you understand what I told you?”</p><p>“Of course!” Trucy replied. “I’m not stupid, you know. Now that you’ve told me what a cult is, I know I have to try my hardest not to get caught up in one, and now that I know this village could be haunted,” she clenched her fists in determination, “I know I have to stick with you, Dad or the Professor. No way I’m going to let myself get caught alone with a ghost!”</p><p>Luke wanted to smile at her pledge, but couldn’t bring himself to. He slipped his journal into his satchel to keep it safe.</p><p>“I don’t know if it’s as easy as just trying not to get caught in a cult,” he told her. “You’d be surprised how manipulative some people can be. Sometimes they’ll pretend to be your friend for weeks, or even months…”</p><p>He found himself thumping down onto the floor to sit again.</p><p>“…so you won’t see it coming when they turn around and stab you in the back.”</p><p>Ugh, what was he saying?</p><p>Trucy didn’t need to hear this. She didn’t need to know about the things Luke and Professor Layton had put up with in their time together. She didn’t need to know about all the people who had tried to kill them, the people they had trusted who had tried their hardest to see them dead.</p><p>She didn’t need to know that discomfort that had crept through his veins when he had seen the white mask on the cover of the Professor’s book.</p><p>“That’s okay!” he heard Trucy say. “We can watch each other’s backs, can’t we?”</p><p>Somehow all of the fear and uncertainty in Luke’s mind seeped away when he saw her cheerful smile.</p><p>“And I’ll watch both of you too!” she made Mr Hat say.</p><p>Luke couldn’t help but smile too at the performance.</p><p>“Yes, um…” It was difficult not to laugh. “Thank you, Mr Hat.”</p><p>He looked down at the book he’d left on the beanbag. The big, confusing, heavy book that they’d struggled to pull off the shelf.</p><p>“Okay,” he sighed, and he pulled it into his lap. “I think we’ve gathered a fair bit of decent intel. Shall we go and find the Professor and your father?”</p><p>“Yep!” Trucy dramatically thrust her finger into the air. “Let’s go!”</p><p>“Well,” said a gentle, familiar voice, “speak of the devil and…”</p><p>Neither of them had noticed the door opening, but there was no mistaking the black-clad man now smiling down at Luke with one hand on his hat while his friend closed the door behind them.</p><p>“Oh!” exclaimed Trucy. “Hi, Professor! Hi, Daddy!”</p><p>“I see you’ve introduced Luke to your favourite companion,” Phoenix commented as he approached.</p><p>“What?” cried Trucy. “But Dad, Luke already knows you!”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t respond, save for a smile of some of the purest adoration Luke had ever seen.</p><p>“Quite an interesting construction you have here,” said Professor Layton, examining the puppet somehow held up on Trucy’s back. “Would you be so kind as to tell me what he’s called?”</p><p>For whatever reason, Trucy didn’t answer his question.</p><p>She stared up at the Professor’s face and started laughing again.</p><p>“…oh my gosh…” she giggled.</p><p>“What?” asked Layton.</p><p>“Luke, do you see it too?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“See what?” Luke felt his eyebrows knot in confusion.</p><p>“Look!” Trucy, meanwhile, pointed up at the Professor’s face.</p><p>“Look at wha-”</p><p>Before Luke could finish that question, he realised. The colour of the wood, the black clothing, the little beady eyes and top hat… it was all…</p><p>“Oh…” he gasped as the realisation slammed into him like a freight train. “…oh my goodness…”</p><p>“Well, if introductions aren’t in order,” said the now-curious Layton, “perhaps the two of you could explain what’s so fascinating all of a sudden?”</p><p>“Daddy, look!” cried Trucy. “Look at this!”</p><p>While the Professor stared down at her in bafflement that only Luke had enough experience with the man to notice, she practically danced around him until Mr Hat was positioned beside him, and only then did the situation seem to sink into Layton’s mind.</p><p>“…oh my god.” Phoenix buried his face in his hand, though it didn’t do much to stifle his sniggering.</p><p>Layton’s face fell into a visibly annoyed frown.</p><p>“Ah, I think I understand,” he said. “You believe there to be some resemblance between myself and this…” He pointed at Mr Hat. “…model, correct?”</p><p>“I didn’t do it deliberately, I swear!” cried Trucy. “Professor, I promise I based Mr Hat on my daddy! I didn’t mean to make him look like you at all!”</p><p>Luke’s throat hurt from snorting so hard with laughter.</p><p>“I’m sorry!” Trucy laughed, while Phoenix turned away in a futile effort to hide his own sniggers. “I didn’t mean it, Professor, I swear!”</p><p>“So you two are saying that I look like a lifeless wooden puppet?” Layton’s voice sounded exaggeratedly hurt.</p><p>“Hey!” Phoenix whipped back around, but couldn’t hide his grin. “Mr Hat’s lively as heck! He’s got personality to spare!”</p><p>The Professor frowned again.</p><p>“<em> Et tu</em>, Mr Wright?” he asked.</p><p>“Alright, alright!” Luke tried to swallow his laughter. “I’m sorry, Professor. We didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I swear!”</p><p>To his relief, Layton responded with that gentle smile he almost always wore.</p><p>“Very well then, Luke,” he said. “If the three of you have finished mocking me, would you mind showing us all that you’ve learned?”</p><p>Behind him, Phoenix helped Trucy pack Mr Hat away into… wherever he was stored when he wasn’t performing.</p><p>Luke looked down at the book he still held in his lap.</p><p>How could he even begin to describe the bizarreness he had discovered?</p><p>Well, if they were going to make any sense of all this, he would have to give it his best shot, wouldn’t he?</p><p>“Okay, but…” He pulled his journal back out of his satchel. “This is a lot. You might want to sit down.”</p><p>As soon as Mr Hat had been safely stored away, Phoenix’s legs folded under his body and he sat down on the floor with his heaviest possible <em> thump</em>.</p><p>“Right,” he said. “Go ahead.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Illustration by the wonderful meldy-arts!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. At the Mountains of Music part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Good evening, gents!” Jack collected their dirty plates onto her tray as she spoke. “Can I interest either of you in a drop of Dutch courage?”</p><p>The Professor took a few moments to mull over the proposal.</p><p>“It’s a kind offer,” he replied, “but no thank you-”</p><p>“Got any grape juice?”</p><p>Layton’s heart sank. He had hoped they could avoid imbibing tonight, especially with Mr Wright’s daughter right there in front of them both.</p><p>The innkeeper seemed confused by her customer’s request.</p><p>“Do you mean wine?” she asked. “I have plenty of wine downstairs. We have vintages from-”</p><p>“Nah,” said Phoenix. “Grape juice. The non-fermented stuff.”</p><p>Jack’s eyebrows knotted in bafflement.</p><p>“Hang on a moment,” she said, and pointed at her bar. “I’ll have to check.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Phoenix responded, and turned to his daughter as their host disappeared behind her bar. “Trucy, you nearly done?”</p><p>“Give me one more second!” Trucy snatched a card off the table from where she had set it in waiting. “You should know this by now, Daddy! Magic takes a LOT of prep!”</p><p>“Sorry, yeah, okay.” With that, Phoenix turned back to the man sitting across the table from them both. “Professor, you were saying? About the tower in the middle of that village? St Mystery?”</p><p>“St Mystere, Mr Wright,” Layton corrected, “although I understand the confusion.”</p><p>Phoenix just scoffed.</p><p>“My only confusion is about how a village could have a name so on-the-nose,” he said. “Do you get it? It’s mysterious!” He wiggled his fingers at the Professor with his spookiest “Ooooooooooh~”</p><p>The Professor couldn’t help but laugh at his mockery.</p><p>“Yes, it can be a little strange for the uninitiated,” he admitted. “My suspicion is that the name, combined with the isolated setting, was to ward off wayward travellers who might overstay their welcome if they were to visit.”</p><p>He sat up a little straighter. It had been a long day and he didn’t want to top it all off by giving himself a sore back.</p><p>“But anyway,” he said, “Luke and I finally entered this tower and immediately fell through a hole and into the cellar.”</p><p>“What?!” Phoenix didn’t bother trying to hide his laughter, which seemed deafening in a tavern as quiet as this.</p><p>“That sounds like a Dungeons and Dragons trap!” cried Trucy.</p><p>“Yeah, you…” It seemed Phoenix had difficulty speaking between his chuckles. “You should’ve had Luke roll a trap check before you went in!”</p><p>His friends’ amusement at the anecdote caused Layton to smile himself, even though various other patrons of the King’s Arms were staring at them with mixtures of annoyance and confusion. Apparently they wanted a quiet night.</p><p>“With the benefit of hindsight, it <em> is </em> quite clear that we should have expected it,” he agreed, and cradled his chin as he always did when he was thinking. “Yes, I believe that should be Rule #1: when entering a mysterious looming tower, avoid using the front door.”</p><p>Phoenix stifled his laughter long enough to look down at Trucy again.</p><p>“Hey, Truce, make a note of that,” he said to her. “Breaking-and-entering life hacks direct from Professor Layton himself!”</p><p>Trucy snorted hard into the cards she was sorting.</p><p>Layton, meanwhile, gave a polite tip-of-the-hat to the villagers who were tossing glares in their directions.</p><p>“Fortunately,” he said in an effort to get these two to stop laughing, “neither of us were injured by the fall, but as we made our way up the tower, I discovered something rather…” What was the best way he could describe his bizarre revelation? “…well, rather revealing about St Mystere’s population. Do you recall I told you about the small cogs Luke and I found in seemingly random places around the town?”</p><p>“And that Ramon guy seemed like he’d had his memory-” Phoenix cut himself off at the realisation. “Oh, don’t tell me.”</p><p>The Professor answered his question with a nod.</p><p>“I assume you’ve reached the correct conclusion,” he said. “Almost every single person in the village was a robot.”</p><p>“What?!” Trucy fumbled with her cards in shock.</p><p>Phoenix just rolled his eyes.</p><p>“I’m too busy feeling sorry for whoever was employed to keep ‘em all going to be surprised by that,” he explained, pressing one hand to his head. “Jeez, a whole village of robots? And you never suspected a thing? How the heck did they avoid falling into the Uncanny Valley?”</p><p>“Oh?” Layton quirked an eyebrow to convey his curiosity. “What is this ‘Uncanny Valley’ you speak of?”</p><p>“Uh, hang on.” Phoenix pulled his travel journal from wherever he had been keeping it and started writing on the next available page. “It’s easier if I write it down, I’m not all that sure how I’d say it and I don’t want to just word vomit at you, so…”</p><p>He slapped the pencil down on the book when he had finished writing and slid it across the table so that the Professor could read what he had hastily jotted down below a doodle of a ghost playing a violin:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is this a good idea? Having to act normal like this after what we’ve all found out about this place is pretty damn hard. What about Luke? Will he be alright by himself? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was difficult not to show any visible reaction, even with the visceral horror that flooded Layton’s mind at the sight of such dreadful handwriting. A glance sideways proved that other patrons were still watching them, variously interested and irritated, although one noticed that they’d been caught and quickly turned away again.</p><p>Layton got the feeling that any visible signs of discomfort or suspicion on his or Phoenix’s part would be either leapt upon immediately or later reported to some higher power that they had yet to learn about.</p><p>Instead of giving away his concern, Layton put on his best ‘understanding’ face.</p><p>“Ah, I see,” he said. “It puts me in mind of another concept on the same subject that you may not have heard of.”</p><p>“It does?” asked Phoenix. “You think you could write it down for me?”</p><p>“Yes, of course,” Layton replied. “As you said, it’ll be easier to comprehend in writing than if I try to drown you in explanations.”</p><p>He took up the pencil and began to write:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The more normal we behave, the less suspicious the townspeople will be of us. Furthermore, Luke is a strong and smart young man. Don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine. I know it’s difficult, but try to remain calm. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Once that was done, he passed the journal back across the table.</p><p>Phoenix folded his arms and leaned forward to read it, and smiled as though he’d been told a fantastic new joke or learned a fascinating fact.</p><p>“Oh, I get it!” he said, and his fingers scrabbled on the paper as he rushed to tuck the journal away. “Man, it’s weird how these things work out, huh?”</p><p>“Indeed it is,” Layton replied, and settled back in his chair. “Unfortunately, in spite of the tower being so immense, there was no lift. Oh, sorry, no <em> elevator</em>. Luke and I had to take the stairs all the way to the top.”</p><p>“Holy crud, <em> what?!</em>” Phoenix’s jaw dropped in horror. “You must’ve been exhausted!”</p><p>“I almost had difficulty driving us home,” Layton chuckled. “My knees were <em> not </em> very happy with me by the time we reached the top floor and Luke barely came to see me at all for several days afterwards.”</p><p>He decided to leave out the two-hour long hot bath he had needed upon getting home to soothe his aching bones.</p><p>“I will, however, admit that I’m glad we made it up there,” he continued, “because that’s where we finally found the fabled Golden Apple.”</p><p>“Well, don’t keep us hanging!” said Phoenix. “What was this Golden Apple that baron guy loved so much? I swear, if it was just a lump of gold made in the shape of an apple…”</p><p>“Nothing so mundane, Mr Wright,” Layton replied happily. “The Golden Apple was, in fact, the Baron’s own daughter. One young Flora Reinhold.”</p><p>His friend’s eyes widened in shock.</p><p>“<em> Oh</em>,” was the only sound he made, somewhere between horror and amazement.</p><p>“Aww, she was his greatest treasure!” cooed Trucy. “That’s so sweet!”</p><p>The Professor gave her a nod of agreement.</p><p>“Sadly, we didn’t have much of a chance to get to know one-another,” he went on, “because that was when Don Paolo decided to launch an attack.”</p><p>Rather than the astonishment he had expected, Phoenix frowned in utter bemusement.</p><p>“Huh?” he managed to say. “How the heck did he catch up to you? You didn’t see him at all on the way up the tower, did you? You would’ve mentioned if you did!”</p><p>Unfortunately, before Layton got a chance to respond, they were interrupted again by their host for that evening.</p><p>“Hey there, guys,” she said, nervously wringing her hands. “I’m sorry, Mr Wright, but I don’t have any grape juice that isn’t…”</p><p>She clasped her hands with a sigh.</p><p>“It’s just wine, I’m afraid,” she explained. “I did find some blackcurrant Tango if you’re interested.”</p><p>Phoenix’s bemusement only continued.</p><p>“I don’t have a clue what Tango is,” he said, “but I’m thirsty, so sure.”</p><p>“Excellent!” Jack cried in relief. “And Mr Layton, how about you? Would you care for a drink? On the house, of course. You’ve both earned it after this morning’s fiasco.”</p><p>Layton couldn’t help but smile at her offer.</p><p>“That’s very kind of you, Ms Hill,” he said, “but I would be content with a glass of water, thank you.”</p><p>“Okie-doke!” Jack said cheerfully, and she leaned forward to peer over the table at the girl hiding behind it. “How about you, young lady? Thirsty?”</p><p>“Um…” Trucy tapped on her chin with one of her cards. “That Tango stuff you mentioned; is it alcoholic?”</p><p>“Nope,” said Jack. “You want a can too?”</p><p>“Yes please!”</p><p>“Okay, I’ll be right back with those. Oh, uh…”</p><p>She stopped halfway through turning back to her bar.</p><p>“Will that young lad be joining you lot?” she asked. “Luke, right?”</p><p>“I’m afraid he won’t be joining our table tonight,” replied the Professor. “He decided to stay in the library and conduct some research by himself.”</p><p>Jack’s expression became indecipherable. Somewhere between confusion, fear and anger, yet she was trying to hide all of it under a mask of welcoming cheer.</p><p>“…ah, I…” she said, and kept her hands in front of her in an effort to hide her wringing. “I understand. Right. Okay, I won’t be long.”</p><p>She jogged back to her bar with a noticeable air of panic.</p><p>When Layton looked back at Phoenix, he saw that his companion had his jaw set and his chest heaving with breath, eyeing him with an expression that seemed to say, ‘what do we do?!’</p><p>The Professor responded with the sternest Look he could manage, and he thanked his tenure at Gressenheller for allowing him to hone that Look until it could very clearly state, without him having to speak a single word, ‘settle down and don’t make a fuss.’</p><p>Thankfully Phoenix did just that. A quick glance around to make sure nobody else had noticed and he was perfectly fine again. Or at least, he was putting on a very convincing act of being fine.</p><p>He cleared his throat as if to chase away his fear.</p><p>“So you were saying that Don Paolo guy attacked you?” he prompted. “How the heck did he manage that if he hadn’t followed you up the tower? He’d have to be right behind you!”</p><p>“He, ah…” Layton suddenly realised he had started speaking before it had properly occurred to him just how absurd the truth really was. “…goodness this is truly going to sound ridiculous once I say it… he had a flying machine.”</p><p>Phoenix just frowned in further bemusement.</p><p>“So like, a helicopter?” he said. “A plane? The Goodyear Blimp? An officially licensed SHIELD helicarrier? What’re we talking about here?”</p><p>“I’m not quite sure what category it fell into,” Layton confessed, “but he used it to attack the tower. Luke managed to escape unscathed, but the stairway collapsed before Flora and I could join him. The poor dear almost fell to her death, but I took her back up to her residence and I cobbled together a glider with various items I found-”</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait, wait, <em> wait</em>,” Phoenix interjected. “A glider isn’t something you just build on the fly while you’re under attack. How the heck did you manage that?!”</p><p>The Professor didn’t spare a thought for whether his smile came across as smug or not.</p><p>“I simply approached it the same way I would a puzzle,” he replied. “You’d be surprised how quickly the mind can work under the right kind of pressure. A curtain rail and a prop for a large globe begins to look an awful lot like a frame and a curtain suddenly becomes a set of wings, just to mention a couple of basic examples.”</p><p>All Phoenix seemed able to do was blink.</p><p>“What <em> are </em> you?!” he gasped.</p><p>His confusion was almost enough to make Layton laugh again.</p><p>“I am a scholar and a gentleman, Mr Wright,” he simply said. “Nothing more and nothing less.”</p><p>Phoenix cleared his throat as though trying to push aside his bafflement.</p><p>“I, uh… I’m going out on a limb and assuming the glider worked,” he said.</p><p>“The landing was a little rough,” Layton admitted, “but Flora and I emerged unscathed. And, as I discovered soon afterwards, she has a birthmark on her lower neck in the shape of an apple.”</p><p>“Oooh, so that’s where the name came from!” Trucy spoke up.</p><p>“Indeed, young Trucy,” the Professor confirmed happily. “Not only that, but contrary to what I had assumed, the Reinhold family <em> did </em> have a fortune. You see, Flora’s birthmark only becomes visible when she laughs, so the intention was that no person would be able to access that fortune unless they could make her happy. Fortunately I had fulfilled that stipulation by setting her free from that tower and all the secrets tied to it, so she had no issue helping us find Baron Reinhold’s fortune.”</p><p>“Here you are, lady and gents!” Jack interrupted with a tray of cans and glasses that she set down on the table between them. “Enjoy!”</p><p>“Thank you very much, Ms Hill,” Layton said politely.</p><p>“Yeah, thanks,” Phoenix added as she unloaded the tray.</p><p>“Thank you!” Trucy piped up.</p><p>With one more happy smile, Jack took up her tray and returned to her bar.</p><p>“So did you take the money?” Phoenix asked as he picked up the cans for himself and his daughter.</p><p>“Of course not,” said Layton. “I don’t have any purpose for riches. My career and accomplishments have done more than enough to provide for my life. The last thing I want to worry about is a gigantic stockpile of shiny metal.” He picked up his glass of water for a small sip. “I left it for the few living human citizens of the village to decide what they wanted to do about it.”</p><p>“What about that Flora girl?” asked Trucy. “Wasn’t it her family’s money?”</p><p>The Professor shook his head.</p><p>“She wasn’t very interested in it either,” he replied. “She ultimately decided that she wanted to live a normal life – one unrelated to towers or surprisingly realistic robots – and she’s become a very kind and well-adjusted young lady. She recently began a new term at a boarding school and was very eager to catch up with the friends she made.”</p><p>“Good for her,” Phoenix said with a smile. “Sounds like she went through a lot, but I’m glad she’s happy now.”</p><p>“Okay, I’m ready!”</p><p>Before either man could say another word, Trucy jumped into view and slammed a deck of cards, face down, on the table.</p><p>“Are <em> you </em> ready, Professor?” she asked with a sly grin.</p><p>Layton couldn’t help but smile right back. Her enthusiasm was infectious.</p><p>“After such a long time to prepare,” he said, “I look forward to being blown away.”</p><p>“Well, I’m going to pull the rug out right now,” said Trucy, “because I’m not going to be doing any trick tonight.”</p><p>The Professor’s smile fell, but that was all he did to hint that he might be confused.</p><p>“Are you not?” he asked.</p><p>“Nope!” Trucy spun around on her heels and gave her cloak a flourish before pointing right at Layton’s face. “Get ready, Professor Layton, because <em> you </em> are going to be performing this trick!”</p><p>The smile crept back onto Layton’s face.</p><p>“Am I now?” he said.</p><p>“But never fear,” Trucy continued as her father finally opened his can of drink, “because you have Magical Girl Trucy Wright to guide you through the process!”</p><p>“And a better guide I could not possibly have hoped for,” Layton said happily. “Very well then, Magical Girl. How shall I go about performing this trick of yours?”</p><p>“Oh, it’s <em> soda</em>.” Phoenix, meanwhile, was eyeing the label on his can. “Okay.”</p><p>Trucy snatched up her own can and popped it open.</p><p>“Right,” she said. “First things first, cut the deck in half and lay the two halves side by side.”</p><p>She took a long pull from her can as the Professor obediently followed her instructions.</p><p>“Alright,” he said once he had the two required halves.</p><p>“Now cut those halves so you’ve got quarters lying all in a line!” Trucy instructed.</p><p>Layton did exactly as she asked, neatly arranging his line so that all four decks were perfectly spaced.</p><p>“There we are,” he said once he was done, and picked up his glass again for another sip of water.</p><p>“Okay,” said Trucy, “now what I want you to do is take three cards off the top of <em> this </em> deck-” She pointed at one end of the line. “-and put them on the bottom.”</p><p>Curious as to where this might be going, Layton did exactly as she had asked to the first deck in the row.</p><p>“Then take three more cards off the top and put one on each of the decks,” Trucy told him.</p><p>Again, Layton did what she wanted. Even though all he was doing was rearranging cards, it was really quite fun. He couldn’t help wondering where all this might be going.</p><p>“Now do the same with the rest!”</p><p>Alright then.</p><p>The Professor followed the instruction – three off the top, go on the bottom, three more off the top with one going on each of the other decks – and made sure the decks remained in their neat line as he progressed.</p><p>“Three cards off the top…” he muttered to himself as he went. “…go on the bottom… one off the top for each of the other three…”</p><p>He continued until he had followed this instruction for all four of the decks, anticipation building all the while as he did so.</p><p>“Alright then,” he said once he was finished. “What’s the next step?”</p><p>Trucy was practically glowing with pride by now.</p><p>“Prepare to be stunned and stupefied by the conjurations of Troupe Gramarye, Professor Layton,” she declared with a wave of a golden wand pulled seemingly from nowhere, “as you flip over the top card on each of those decks to reveal those cards for what they really are!”</p><p>Once again, her enthusiasm was one of the most contagious things Layton had ever been exposed to, and he couldn’t avoid a gentle chuckle at how happy she was to be sharing her craft.</p><p>“Very well,” he said, and he straightened himself up in his seat in preparation for whatever was coming next.</p><p>He turned over the first card. An ace of diamonds.</p><p>The second card he flipped over was the ace of spades.</p><p>Was this going where he thought it was?</p><p>He flipped over the third card. Ace of hearts.</p><p>It was, wasn’t it?</p><p>“My word!” he couldn’t help but exclaim as he turned over the final card to reveal the ace of clubs.</p><p>“Alaka-ZAM!” Trucy brandished her wand in triumph.</p><p>“Very impressive!” said Layton. “I can see you have plenty of reason to be proud of your profession.”</p><p>“Thank you, thank you!” Trucy held her hat to her chest and bowed. “I’ll be here all week!”</p><p>“I’m a little disappointed in you, Trucy.”</p><p>At the sound of her father’s voice, she put her hat back on and stared up at his arrogant smirk in disdain.</p><p>“Huh?’ she said. “What for?”</p><p>Phoenix took a long, teasing sip of his drink.</p><p>“There’s no need to go easy on the Professor,” he told her. “I’m sure he can handle whatever you throw at him. You don’t want to settle for just the Four Aces trick, do you?”</p><p>Trucy gasped in amazement.</p><p>“You’re right!” she cried, and snatched the cards back off the table. “Okay, let me just set up another! Might take a while!”</p><p>“Yes, indeed,” Layton agreed. “I would love to see another conjuration of Troupe Gramarye, not that I know what that is.”</p><p>He took another sip of water.</p><p>“Am I to assume this troupe is where young Trucy learned her craft?” he asked.</p><p>Trucy froze in the middle of whatever she was doing with her cards and looked up at Phoenix again. Phoenix, for his part, was frowning again.</p><p>“…yeah,” he said weakly.</p><p>He took another pull from his can as if to distract from the question.</p><p>“With such expert showmanship at such a young age,” Layton continued regardless, “one would almost think she had been performing her entire life.”</p><p>Again, rather than giving any adequate reply, Phoenix frowned into the middle distance.</p><p>“Yeah,” he said, voice soft and numb.</p><p>It didn’t look as though he was any more willing to talk about this now than he had been at any point over the past day or two.</p><p>Perhaps it would be a good idea to back off before he built those walls of his any higher.</p><p>“Oh, do forgive me, Mr Wright,” the Professor decided to say. “It’s simply that I don’t think I’ve ever seen you displaying proficiency or, indeed, any interest in stage magic, so I can’t help being curious about your daughter’s skill.”</p><p>Would a more casual approach persuade him to open up?</p><p>“Which trick are you planning on showing next, Truce?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>Apparently not.</p><p>“Hmm, I don’t know.” Trucy hesitated, cards in hand. “I’m trying to figure out which one would <em> really </em> bamboozle the Professor.”</p><p>It was at the mention of the word ‘bamboozle’ that Layton suddenly realised he had a spectacular opportunity that he may never get to have again.</p><p>“If you’re having trouble thinking of which trick you can perform,” he spoke up, “I know a puzzle that may provide a little inspiration.”</p><p>“Oooh! A card puzzle? Gimme, gimme!” Trucy bounced excitedly on her feet.</p><p>Had she even sat in her chair once this whole evening? The Professor couldn’t help but laugh at her boundless energy.</p><p>“Very well, Trucy,” he said, and held up his most instructional finger. “Imagine that your father was blindfolded-”</p><p>“Again?” Phoenix smugly quirked his eyebrow and smiled.</p><p>“…imagine that your father was blindfolded again,” Layton continued regardless, “and that I gave him a complete deck of fifty-two cards, telling him that ten of those cards were facing up while the rest were facing down. I then ask him to divide that deck into two piles, each with the same number of cards facing up, but he isn’t allowed to look at or damage the cards, nor is he allowed to ask for help. What strategy can he use to achieve this equal division?”</p><p>“Uh, um…” Trucy finally sat down so that she could think. “…hmm…”</p><p>Even Phoenix looked nonplussed at this conundrum.</p><p>“Dang, Professor!” he said. “Ever heard of going easy on beginners?”</p><p>“One of the greatest joys a person can feel is that of happening upon a solution to a puzzle, Mr Wright,” Layton pointed out. “The more challenging the puzzle, the greater the eventual joy.”</p><p>“Maybe if he…” Trucy fiddled with her cards, arranging and rearranging them in stacks as she processed her thoughts. “…no, that wouldn’t work…”</p><p>Phoenix cradled his chin, similarly to how the Professor did when he was trying to think, and ran his fingers over his scratchy-looking stubble.</p><p>“Jeez,” he said, “even I’m stumped.”</p><p>Trucy pressed two halves of a deck together only to bring them apart again, and turned them over in her hands, glaring at the visible spots of red and black that Layton could only barely see from where he was sitting, He passed the time by sipping on his water again.</p><p>“…uh…” she said again. “…no, um…”</p><p>She slapped the cards on the table.</p><p>“Professor, this is too hard!” she complained.</p><p>“Yeah, can’t we get a hint or something?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>“Oh! Hang on!” Trucy plunged her hand into her little heart bag and, after a few seconds of rummaging around, pulled out a £2 coin. “I’ll give you this, uh…” She looked it over, apparently trying to work out what it was. “I don’t know how much money this is, but I’ll give it to you if you give us a hint!”</p><p>“Now, now, young lady.” Layton tried not to laugh at her desperation. “I didn’t get to where I am now by accepting bribes.”</p><p>“Not even for a special Magical Hint Coin?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>The Professor couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.</p><p>“Not even for that, Mr Wright,” he chuckled.</p><p>Phoenix sighed and rolled his eyes with a mutter of “you <em> jerk</em>.”</p><p>Trucy continued fiddling with her cards. Her brows were creased in such a way as to suggest that she could burst into tears any moment.</p><p>They really were struggling with this, weren’t they?</p><p>Maybe throwing them into the deep end without any armbands hadn’t been such a good idea after all…</p><p>“…no, thinking about it now,” Layton decided, “perhaps that one was a little too much for a casual puzzle solver. How about something different?”</p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” groaned Trucy.</p><p>“My apologies for, ah, ‘bamboozling’ you so thoroughly, young lady,” said Layton, still amused by her desperation. “Would you mind arranging all of the aces, kings, queens and jacks from your deck into a four-by-four square?”</p><p>Trucy’s jaw dropped.</p><p>“That’s easy!” she cried.</p><p>“Not so fast,” said Layton, holding up his finger again. “The caveat is that only one card of each value is allowed in each row, column and diagonal line.”</p><p>The little girl’s face fell again.</p><p>“Oh,” she said softly, and she picked up her cards again. “Okay, let me pick out all the cards I need and I’ll give it a shot.”</p><p>“I give, Professor,” said Phoenix as she flicked through her deck. “What’s the answer for that previous one?”</p><p>Layton found himself smiling again. He already knew that their reactions were going to be fantastic.</p><p>“The solution was to divide the cards into two piles,” he explained. “One of ten and one of forty-two. Then you simply flip over the smaller pile.”</p><p>“WHAT?!” cried Trucy.</p><p>“It was <em> that </em> easy?!” Phoenix slammed a hand into his face. “I feel like a moron for not figuring that out!”</p><p>“Every puzzle has an answer, Mr Wright,” Layton told him with a tip of his hat. “That’s something you should never doubt, even if it seems impossible.”</p><p>“Yeah, I can see that,” Phoenix said as Layton finished his drink. “Thanks for the sage wisdom, Professor. Truce, you got ‘em all?”</p><p>“Man, I can’t believe it was that easy,” Trucy sighed, and she slapped a small stack of cards down on the table beside the larger deck. “Okay! That’s all sixteen!”</p><p>“Let me know if you need any help,” the Professor said to her. “I offer my services for free.”</p><p>“You don’t want this Magic Hint Coin?” Trucy held up the coin again.</p><p>Layton couldn’t help but laugh at her lack of frivolity.</p><p>“You make a tempting offer,” he told her, “but no thank you.”</p><p>“Trucy, if you need any help, I’m right here,” said Phoenix. “My services are totally <em> pro bono</em>.”</p><p>“Like always!” Trucy giggled. “Okay, let’s start with diagonal and go from there, I think that makes the most sense…”</p><p>“Good call,” Phoenix said.</p><p>The Professor found himself looking between them both. Phoenix was watching this little girl work with unmistakable fatherly pride, and Trucy had her jaw set in determination as she laid down an ace, jack, queen and king in a line in front of her.</p><p>Anybody watching would assume that the pair of them were as close as it was possible for a father and daughter to be, but they couldn’t be, could they?</p><p>With how stressful the Labyrinthia incident had been for poor Mr Wright, he would certainly have mentioned any offspring that he had been forcibly removed from, and Trucy was far, <em> far </em> too old to have been born after that incident.</p><p>Where did she come from?!</p><p>Wow, ever since receiving that letter, Layton’s life had been returned to one surrounded by mystery upon mystery. If he didn’t find some way to organise it all in his mind soon…</p><p>“Mr Wright,” he said, “may I borrow a page from your journal? I have some thoughts I’d like to put into writing that I’d feel better about if they could be organised.”</p><p>“Sure, hang on,” said Phoenix.</p><p>He opened up his journal to its final page and tore it out, careful not to shred it or crease it too much, and he passed it across the table along with his pencil and a glance around the room to check that they weren’t being watched.</p><p>As Layton accepted the paper, he glanced around as well, noting that the snow outside had lessened since the last time he had seen it. It would most likely have stopped entirely by the time he left for the cottage he was renting.</p><p>One of the other patrons departed into the night and, in the brief span of time that the door spent open, he heard the distinct sound of a violin.</p><p>It seemed the Minstrel had gone to work.</p><p>The Professor tried to shake off his concern and began to write.</p><p>The sooner he could process his thoughts, the better.</p><p> </p><p> </p><ul>
<li><em>The Missing Man<br/>Having received a letter from a stranger calling themselves the Yatagarasu, I have travelled to an isolated village with Luke to find a man who disappeared in the vicinity of said village. What could have happened to this man and why does nobody in this village seem to know?<br/><br/></em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li>
<em>Trucy Wright</em><br/><em>Running into Mr Wright again was an unexpected surprise, but I could never have predicted that he would be a father. Trucy is far too old to have existed prior to Labyrinthia and Mr Wright would definitely have mentioned her if she had. Where did she come from?</em><br/><br/>
</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>
<em>Phoenix Wright’s History</em><br/><em>Mr Wright’s behaviour suggests that something terrible took place in the two years since we last met, but he refuses to say what it is. I’ve discovered that he lost his job as a lawyer, but how did this happen and how could getting fired have changed his personality so much?</em><br/><br/>
</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>
<em>The Minstrel</em><br/><em>The strange village of Fatargan is entertained every night by a person the citizens refer to only as The Minstrel, who plays a violin from a location that allows the entire town to hear. Why is this playing necessary and how can this Minstrel bear to play in such terrible cold?</em><br/><br/>
</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>
<em>Hauntings</em><br/><em>When Fatargan is viewed through a stone with a hole in it, the streets appear to be filled with translucent figures. The simplest explanation would be that they are ghosts, but surely this can’t be the case. It’s impossible for a person to continue existing after their death.</em><br/><br/>
</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>
<em>The Painted King</em><br/><em>Fatargan appears to follow a strange religion wherein they worship a figure known as the Painted King. Is this a village living in a cult, worshipping a false god under the orders of some overseer? Or is this simply a case of a civilisation independently developing a religion?</em><br/><br/>
</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>
<em>Villagers’ Behaviour</em><br/><em>The citizens of Fatargan act in a rather odd manner. Their belief in the Painted King is enough to even silence a witness sworn to tell the truth in a court of law, and even outside that, they mostly appear to act suspicious and standoffish. Could their religion be the cause of this?</em><br/><br/>
</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>
<em>Angela Skellig</em><br/><em>The mayor of Fatargan exhibits perhaps the oddest behaviour of the entire village. Her dismissing of my investigation and insults to Mr Wright show that she doesn’t want us in her village, but what could she be trying so hard to prevent us from finding?</em>
</li>
</ul><p> </p><p> </p><p>That felt better.</p><p>He made sure to leave some space at the bottom of the page in case anything came up that he needed to add.</p><p>“Thank you, Mr Wright,” he said, and he passed the pencil back across the table.</p><p>“No problem,” Phoenix replied, pocketing that pencil.</p><p>“I see why you write so much during the trials you defend in,” Layton commented as he folded up his little mystery list (or listery, as young Maya would no doubt suggest if she was here). “It’s far easier to keep on top of one’s thoughts when you have a point of reference to make sure you don’t misremember them.”</p><p>He slotted the list into his pocket next to the dossier he was still holding onto.</p><p>“Well, uh…” Phoenix nervously scratched the back of his head. “Usually the courtrooms have a ticker thing that records and transcribes everything that’s said, so I don’t have to worry about writing it down myself. It’s, um…” He finished off his drink. “It’s actually been pretty stressful trying to keep up with what people are saying.”</p><p>For the briefest of moments, Layton felt as though he had returned to his usual job.</p><p>“Trust me, Mr Wright,” he said, “I completely understand. I’ve had any number of students ask me to speak or progress more slowly when I’m delivering my lectures. Yes, modern technology allows for far faster writing than one could achieve with pen and paper, but pen and paper are still in common use. I’m afraid I struggle to rein myself in if I get carried away talking about the latest subject on the curriculum.”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t bother to hide how hard he cringed.</p><p>“Jeez,” he groaned. “I don’t think I want to know how many enemies you’ve made in the student body doing that!”</p><p>Against his better judgement, Layton found himself sighing.</p><p>“I do try to pay attention to my students’ needs, I <em> really </em> do,” he insisted. “I recall last May, around the time exams were getting into swing, Dean Delmona called me to his office and asked me to do something about the increasing number of students who hadn’t bothered getting dressed before coming to class.”</p><p>If Phoenix had any of his drink left, he would probably have choked on it.</p><p>“What?” he spluttered. “They just came to college in their underwear?!”</p><p>“Nothing so crude,” said the Professor. “Pyjamas, Mr Wright. Ranging from spaghetti-stained shirts and tracksuit bottoms to old-fashioned blue stripes and matching superhero printed sets. I recall at least one young lady attending a lecture looking extremely exhausted and wearing a one-piece sleep suit styled to look like a giraffe.”</p><p>His friend scoffed at the idea.</p><p>“What did you do?” he asked, obviously trying to avoid laughing. “Surely you didn’t try to get them to stop, did you? Wasn’t it exam time? That’d just be cruel!”</p><p>“Exactly,” said Layton. “I understood that these poor youths had far more important things to worry about than old-fashioned expectations of appearing presentable, and I say that as a proudly old-fashioned and consistently presentable man myself. With that in mind…”</p><p>It was hard not to laugh as he remembered the looks on his students’ and colleagues’ faces.</p><p>“I wore my own pyjamas.”</p><p>Phoenix curled in on himself, doubling over so hard in his laughter that he almost hit his head on the tabletop. His snorting seemed deafening against the quiet, almost background-like chatter in the tavern.</p><p>“It was only for one lecture,” Layton added, “but I could tell that my students appreciated the show of solidarity.”</p><p>“That’s amazing!” cried Phoenix. “Man, I wish I’d had you for a lecturer in one of <em> my </em> classes. I bet it would’ve been <em> way </em> more fun that the rotating roster of stuck-up jerks I actually got.”</p><p>He cast his eyes down to the floor and mumbled something that sounded like:</p><p>“…maybe you wouldn’t have believed I was a murderer.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Layton decided to make it clear he had heard that. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“All done!”</p><p>Trucy pumped her fists into the air.</p><p>Layton leaned over to see what she had accomplished. She had fulfilled the criteria to a T: a perfect 4-square sudoku of aces, jacks, queens and kings.</p><p>From what he had seen, she didn’t ask for help even once.</p><p>“So you are,” the Professor said happily. “Very impressive, young lady.”</p><p>“Is it?” asked Trucy. “It was really hard to figure out. I’m still not totally sure I got it right!”</p><p>“No, I can see from here that you solved that puzzle perfectly,” Layton assured her. “Well done, young Trucy. I can see that you are both a skilled magician and a skilled logician.”</p><p>“Oh! Yeah, totally!” Trucy replied, but her face quickly fell. “I, uh…” She stared down at her square of cards. “I don’t know what that means.”</p><p>“It simply means that you’re a very bright young lady,” said the Professor. “Mr Wright is certainly lucky to have <em> you </em>for his daughter.”</p><p>“Aw, <em> stop</em>,” Trucy said bashfully.</p><p>“No, don’t.” Phoenix leaned over and hugged her shoulders as she giggled and blushed. “Keep going, Professor. Tell me more about how amazing my baby girl is.”</p><p>“I’d love to,” Layton said, standing up from his chair, “but I really must be making tracks.” He tucked his chair under the table and adjusted his hat by the brim. “I don’t want Luke to stay too long at the library, given the conditions of this village’s climate during the night. We wouldn’t want him catching a death of cold in his efforts to solve our mysteries all by himself, would we?”</p><p>“Aww, don’t leave yet!” whined Trucy. “We’re having so much fun!”</p><p>“And we can have plenty more fun tomorrow,” said Layton, “but I’m sure we’re coming up on your bedtime by now.”</p><p>“Pfft, what’s a bedtime?” Trucy scoffed.</p><p>“Trucy, work with me here, okay?” said Phoenix. “I’m trying <em> not </em> to look like the world’s worst dad.”</p><p>“In any case,” Layton said as he straightened his coat, “I bid you goodnight, Mr and Ms Wright. Do sleep well and keep warm tonight. I shall see you in the morning.”</p><p>He turned away from their table and started towards the door.</p><p>“See you later, Professor!” called Trucy.</p><p>“See you,” added Phoenix.</p><p>Layton gave them one last wave over his shoulder before he stepped out through the King’s Arms’ front door and emerged into the night.</p><p>Sure enough, the snow had stopped. The light cast from the windows didn’t reach very far, so the Professor produced his lantern to find his way through the streets, but even in what little dim light there was thanks to the intermittent street lights, he could see that the entire village was blanketed in white.</p><p>Perhaps if it had been daytime, the view would have been beautiful.</p><p>As it was, Layton felt an urgency the likes of which he hadn’t known in months. If he didn’t get back as soon as possible…</p><p>There was that music again.</p><p>If the village’s appearance and the night-time cold wasn’t enough to send a shiver down his spine, the sound of that piercing violin definitely was. Layton realised he was still standing in the doorway and he hurried down the steps to get out of the way, feet crunching once he reached the snow-covered ground, and every hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he tried to listen.</p><p>What was that tune?</p><p>He could swear he had heard it before…</p><p>…was it from… no, it wasn’t classical. He couldn’t think of any composers that would make a piece like this. But then, what was it? Was it…?</p><p>A showtune! Of course!</p><p>The more he listened, the more familiar it sounded. At long last, he recognised the melody. It was from… that was Phantom of the Opera, right? Wasn’t this song from the musical rendition of the Phantom of the Opera?</p><p>Yes, it was. One of the first songs upon entering… the second act, wasn’t it?</p><p>Somehow recognising that tune made the Professor feel less afraid of being out here at night, but it was impossible to say his fear was completely diminished. He didn’t know if he wanted to have one of the stones Luke had been given or not. Who knew how many wayward spirits could be wandering all around him by now?</p><p>Another shiver shot through his body.</p><p>Best not to think about <em> that</em>.</p><p>He pressed his scarf over his nose and mouth and sighed into it to warm up his face. Thank goodness he didn’t need glasses. Being outside in this village at night was difficult enough without trying to peer out through a layer of steam.</p><p>Hmm…</p><p>He walked around the side of the King’s Arms and found his way with his lantern, pressing his other hand deep into his pocket but being careful not to crinkle the papers he had. He glanced up at the windows above in case anybody up there might be watching him, but it looked like everybody in there was too concerned with other matters to pay attention to him.</p><p>Either that or they just didn’t see his light.</p><p>When he reached the edge of the building, he peered around, making sure he stayed as hidden behind the wall as he possibly could.</p><p>The music was louder over here than it had been at the front door.</p><p>The Professor shone his light along the ground, following it as it rose in a steep slope.</p><p>No, not a slope.</p><p>Those were <em> steps</em>.</p><p>So there was a way up the mountain, was there? No, there <em> had </em>to be a way up. How else would the Minstrel be able to get to the top to play their music?</p><p>Perhaps he could-</p><p>Layton froze.</p><p>Something, somewhere behind him, had crunched in the snow.</p><p>Was that someone walking away?</p><p>He turned around, holding onto his hat, and cast his light around the empty street.</p><p>“Hello?” he called. “Who’s there?”</p><p>Nobody answered.</p><p>Of <em> course </em> nobody answered. Any sensible stalker would know better than to respond to a person asking after their existence, wouldn’t they?</p><p>Something was moving.</p><p>Across the street, in the shadows outside the range of the lampposts, someone was moving.</p><p>The Professor took a deep breath. Did he dare follow this person? Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to run across this street, under that stone bridge, past the Sacred Well, across the bridge and back to that cottage, not even stopping at the library to pick up Luke-</p><p>No.</p><p>No, he couldn’t do that.</p><p>He <em> wouldn’t </em> do that.</p><p>What was...</p><p>Without moving his lantern, Layton looked to his right.</p><p>A dark shape lay in the snow a few metres away from where he was standing. At this distance, it was hard to tell what it was. A pile of litter? A discarded blanket?</p><p>He stepped forward, making sure to keep his movements slow and as quiet as he could. Every crunch of the snow under his feet was like screaming in his ears. He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to grind them, and had to remind himself that breathing was something he needed to do if he wanted to stay alive.</p><p>Somehow, even though he couldn’t tell what this thing was, its mere presence was pooling cold dread into his stomach.</p><p>Every hair on his body stood on end as he forced himself to move his lantern’s light along the blanketed ground until it finally reached this dark, indistinct shape.</p><p>There were slippers.</p><p>Those were legs.</p><p>This was a <em> person</em>.</p><p>Lying face down in the snow.</p><p>Not moving.</p><p>Not breathing.</p><p>Layton jumped back in horror, hand flying to his mouth, snow crunching under his feet as he stumbled. His lantern fell from his fingers and toppled to the ground, half-embedding itself in the snow and shining its light on the motionless person’s face.</p><p>Still clutching his mouth to keep himself from screaming, Layton realised with a thrill of horror just who it was lying in front of him.</p><p>The old man from earlier who had accused Dr Wallace of poisoning him. Mr Oldfart, wasn’t it? Wrenkley Oldfart?</p><p>His eyes were bulging, bloodshot and glassy, staring emptily into the night, and his face was as pale as the snow he lay slumped in. His only movement came from his hair, fluttering in a light, chilling breeze that blew down the street.</p><p>Limbs stiffened by shock, Layton forced himself to kneel down for a closer inspection.</p><p>Surely he wasn’t dead, was he?</p><p>The Professor took another deep breath, reached forward and pressed his shaking fingers to the old man’s neck.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>No pulse.</p><p>Even through his gloves, Layton could feel that his body was cold.</p><p>When he took his hand away, another thrill of horror washed over the Professor’s body when he saw the blood all over his fingers.</p><p>He had to move. He had to tell someone about this. The police station, perhaps? Was there even anybody there? Would it be better to go to the inn? He knew for a fact that people he trusted would be there, but so were a good deal of people he <em> didn’t </em> trust, so maybe it would be better to go to the police or perhaps to the library where he was sure Luke would be waiting and he knew that Luke would listen to him and understand the gravity of the situation so that-</p><p>“Freeze!”</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>“Hold it! Stay right where you are! Hands where we can see them!”</p><p>Layton only had a few more seconds to examine the blood all over his fingers before dredging up the last of his energy to raise his hands beside his head.</p><p>Perhaps it would have been better to stay in the tavern…</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Luke closed his journal with a snap, making sure none of that note’s edges were sticking out.</p><p>After a glance around the library to check that nobody was watching, he shoved it into his satchel and hugged that satchel to his chest.</p><p>Everything he had learned from the books he had needed Mr Edwards’ help to get down from the top shelf once the librarian had returned from wherever he had been – Luke vaguely recalled a comment about ‘dinner at the King’s Arms’ – had confirmed what he had suspected. Everything that person had written in the hasty note they had slipped into that book had been correct, as far as these impressively biased writings were to be believed.</p><p>Now all he had to do was figure out how to break it to his travelling companions in such a way that nobody else in this village would be able to find out that they knew.</p><p>He had no idea what these people would say or do if they knew that the newcomers to their little town disapproved of their attitudes, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. If what had happened to Dr Wallace today was any indication, then they-</p><p>“Luke?”</p><p>Luke bit his tongue in alarm.</p><p>He pressed it against the roof of his mouth to rub away the pain and put on his bravest face as he got up, found his way through the dark library and tracked down Mr Edwards at the back of the room beside a rotary telephone.</p><p>“Is…” Oh god, biting his tongue like that had been a <em> mistake</em>. “…is something wrong?”</p><p>“I’m not sure,” said the librarian. “You’ve got a call from your Professor bloke. He sounds pretty worked up. Says he’s calling from the police station.”</p><p>Suddenly the pain in Luke’s tongue didn’t exist anymore.</p><p>What on earth was Professor Layton doing at the police station?</p><p>He accepted the phone and pressed it to his ear.</p><p>“Professor?” he said, hoping his nerves didn’t come across over the phone. “What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Do we really have to go to bed <em> now?</em>” Trucy whined.</p><p>Phoenix froze partway up the first flight of stairs.</p><p>“You can’t seriously tell me you’ve still got energy after a day like today!” he exclaimed.</p><p>“I think it was that Tango stuff,” said Trucy. “Do you think it was a bad idea to drink it all in one go? I’m all buzzy.”</p><p>“Well, little buzzing bee,” Phoenix chuckled as he took her by the hand, “the least you could do is <em> try </em> to get some rest. You might think you’re awake right now, but once you get into bed-”</p><p>“MR WRIGHT!”</p><p>The inn fell silent.</p><p>Phoenix jogged back down the stairs, daughter in tow, to see why the door had been thrown open so hard.</p><p>“Luke?” he said when he saw who was responsible.</p><p>“Mr Wright, you have to help!” Luke flew forward and grabbed Phoenix by the arms. “We need yo- the Professor needs you! He needs your help! You have to help, you have to clear his name, you can’t let-”</p><p>“Luke, slow down!” Phoenix shook himself out of the boy’s grip and took him by the shoulders to hold him steady. “Take a deep breath, alright? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”</p><p>Luke’s breathing was fast and heavy, but he managed to take a single deep breath that allowed him to shout as loud as he could.</p><p>“<em>Professor Layton’s been arrested for murder!</em>”</p><p>The silence in the tavern somehow deepened even further.</p><p>Phoenix could only blink in slack-jawed confusion.</p><p>“What?!” he gasped.</p><p>“I’m still not entirely sure what happened,” Luke managed to say, pausing briefly to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “I-I was at the library and Mr Edwards said there was a call for me and it was the Professor and he said he was calling from the police station! He said he found Mr Oldfart dead in the street and then the police showed up and assumed he was the killer! Mr Wright, you have to help him! You know as well as I do that the Professor would never even hurt someone, let alone kill them!”</p><p>He struggled to catch his breath after his exhausting word-vomit.</p><p>Phoenix was overwhelmed by a sudden urge to sit down.</p><p>“What was that?” asked Jack.</p><p>He looked over at her and the bar and saw her watching them in confusion, her hand creeping towards where he knew she kept her spade.</p><p>“Did he just say Mr Oldfart is dead?” asked one of the patrons.</p><p>“Wrenkley’s dead?!” gasped another.</p><p>“Can’t be!” cried a third. “He were perfectly fine this morning!”</p><p>“But that Professor Layton bloke got arrested!” Jack pointed out.</p><p>“I knew there was something off about that so-called Professor!” said another of the patrons.</p><p>“You can’t trust anyone these days!” added someone else.</p><p>“Mr Wright!” Luke choked, grabbing Phoenix’s arms again as the chatter continued. “What are we going to do?!”</p><p>“Okay, uh…” Phoenix felt as though he had been punched in the face. “…um, right… uh…”</p><p>He found himself gripped by a sudden desire to slap something and tried to channel it out safely by tapping his foot.</p><p>“W-we, uh…” he managed to say. “We need to figure out what really happened-”</p><p>“<em>Obviously!</em>”</p><p>“SHUT UP!”</p><p>Luke, along with the rest of the inn, fell silent at his shout. Luke himself let go of Phoenix and backed away in shock while Trucy made her way over from where she had been left on the stairs.</p><p>Now that he had the space for it, Phoenix began pacing around, hoping that perhaps that would get rid of some of the explosive energy he was suddenly filled with.</p><p>“…okay, okay, okay…” he muttered to himself. “…okay…”</p><p>How did this go? What was the usual procedure?</p><p>“…interview the client,” he recalled. “We always start by talking with the client, jus-just start there and…”</p><p>He took a deep breath, even though it did next to nothing to pull together his sprawling thoughts.</p><p>“We need to go and talk to the Professor in person,” he said, trying as hard as he could not to stumble over his words again. “His side of the story is vital if we’re going to get to the bottom of this.”</p><p>“He’s just going to lie through his teeth!” yelled someone nearby.</p><p>“Why should we trust a single word he says?”</p><p>“Obviously <em> someone </em> killed Wrenkley! And if he was found right next to him-”</p><p>“Yeah, if the top hat fits-”</p><p>“He said <em> SHUT UP!</em>”</p><p>All eyes in the room turned to the bar, which Jack stood atop brandishing Caitlin in one hand. She pointed it right at Phoenix’s face and scowled down the handle in his direction.</p><p>“Mr Wright,” she said, “you and yours have ten seconds to get the <em> hell </em> out of my pub.”</p><p>Phoenix swallowed hard as she jumped off the bar and hit the floor with a deafening thud.</p><p>“GO.”</p><p>He grabbed Luke and Trucy by their arms and dragged them out of the building.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Mr Wright, what’s wrong?” asked Luke as they hurried through the snow in the direction of the police station. “You weren’t like this when that trial happened on the train!”</p><p>“That’s because I had time to think things through, alright?” Phoenix snapped. “I had time to process everything! Or did you forget I was literally in the same room as the murder when it happened?”</p><p>Luke’s mind went back to the situation he and the Professor had discovered on that train. Phoenix sitting against that wall, his hat pulled down over his eyes, a corpse sprawled on the floor right in front of him in a pool of…</p><p>“…oh yeah…” Luke said numbly, and choked back the bile that had risen in his throat at the memory.</p><p>“I had enough to make an educated guess about who the culprit might’ve been even before I knew the identities of the people involved,” Phoenix pointed out. “When it came to it, I knew what I had to do. I didn’t just have it all <em> dumped </em> on me right the heck out of nowhere, alright? I had time to <em> think!</em>”</p><p>“I-I understand, I swear!” Luke held up his hands in defence and allowed Phoenix to move ahead of him, suddenly very aware of how much taller the ex-lawyer was than him, as they entered the area where the police station sat across from the Sacred Well.</p><p>“Daddy, it’s okay!” The unafraid Trucy ran to catch up with her storming father and took him by the hand. “We can deal with this, can’t we? You’ve defended your friends before! Loads of times! How many times has Auntie Maya been accused of murder again?”</p><p>Phoenix froze on the station’s front step.</p><p>“Way too many,” he replied, turning away from the door, “but again, I had time to process the events that were taking place around me! I generally had more than <em> half a minute </em> to mentally prepare myself for speaking to a client I already knew who’d been accused of <em> murder!</em>”</p><p>“We know he’s innocent right off the bat though, don’t we?” asked Luke, trying to remind himself that Mr Wright was his friend and wouldn’t try to hurt him. “Like I said, the Professor wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone another human being! Especially one he didn’t even know or have any grudge against!”</p><p>Instead of the calm understanding and hope that Luke had been hoping for, Phoenix pressed his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes.</p><p>“I don’t think the prosecution’s going to see it that way,” he groaned.</p><p>“Dad, you’ll be fine!” Trucy offered him a gentle smile. “Remember the worst of times are when lawyers have to force their biggest smiles!”</p><p>The way Phoenix looked down at her was… it was strange.</p><p>His expression was near-indecipherable.</p><p>Was he… was he going to start crying?</p><p>“…yeah,” he said numbly. “I know.”</p><p>Before Luke had a chance to ask if he was okay, he pushed through the door and led them into the police station.</p><p>Into a blindingly white reception area illuminated by a cold white ceiling lamp and furnished by a pair of cheap, scratchy-looking chairs and a metal desk at which sat a skinny young man in a long-sleeved uniform and a spiky mop of vivid orange hair, reclining and reading a book with <em> WARCROSS </em>printed on its cover in rainbow lettering.</p><p>Luke jumped to the front of the group before Phoenix had a chance to tear this officer’s head off.</p><p>“Excuse me?” he said.</p><p>The officer didn’t respond. Didn’t even look up from his book.</p><p>“Um…” Luke cleared his throat and gently pushed away the bell that sat on the desk so that he wouldn’t be tempted. “Hello?”</p><p>Still the officer refused to acknowledge his existence. He turned a page in his book and smiled at something that had amused him.</p><p>“So this town <em> does </em>have cops?” Phoenix didn’t even bother trying to keep his voice low.</p><p>“<em> A </em> cop, at least,” said Trucy, clutching his hand and looking around the stark, clinical room. “I don’t see anyone else here.”</p><p>“Yeah, good point.” Phoenix curled his fingers around hers. “Where the heck IS everyone?”</p><p>“Um, er…” Luke tried to pretend he didn’t have two confused Americans standing right behind him. “…is Professor Layton here?”</p><p>“So what if he is?”</p><p>At long last, the officer actually spoke.</p><p>“We want to see him!” said Luke. “We want to speak to the Professor-”</p><p>“Visiting hours ended at 7pm,” the officer said flatly. “Come back tomorrow if-”</p><p>“We’re his defence team!” Trucy had to jump to make her face visible over the top of the desk. “Let us speak to him!”</p><p>Well, they were definitely in it now, weren’t they?</p><p>“…yeah, we’re his defence!” Luke said slowly, mentally convincing himself that they were doing this whether Mr Wright liked it or not. “We have to speak to our client before-”</p><p>“I said visiting hours are over!” The officer finally looked up from his book. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll be forced to arrest the lot of you for trespassing!”</p><p>“That would be unlawful and you know it,” Phoenix said, stepping forward and pushing Luke aside. “All we want is to speak to the man you arrested about the incident that took place earlier tonight. I’m sure you know what we’re talking about?”</p><p>“We’re not asking you to release him!” Luke added. “All we want is to talk to him about what happened!”</p><p>The officer’s hazel eyes flickered between their faces, his frown partly hidden beneath his mess of hair and checker-banded cap.</p><p>After what felt like forever, he sighed.</p><p>“…the sooner you all get out of this village, the better,” he grumbled.</p><p>He sat up and slipped a bookmark topped with a cute cartoon dog into his book.</p><p>“Fine,” he said as he stood up.</p><p>Luke tried not to stare at how tall this man was – he seemed to have not so much grown as been seized at either end and stretched – as he led them to a white-painted door and held it open for them to walk through.</p><p>“Here,” he said. “This is our interview room.”</p><p>A blank white room with only a table and three chairs for its furniture? Hardly the most sparse or intimidating room Luke had ever seen inside.</p><p>“Wait in here and I’ll go get your friend,” the officer ordered as the three of them stepped in. “If any of you dare try anything, you’ll be joining him in the cells.”</p><p>“We understand,” said Phoenix. “Thank you.”</p><p>He took one of the seats as the officer left them, sitting on the opposite side of the table, while the redhead slammed the door shut as he departed.</p><p>Luke sat down in the chair beside Phoenix’s and tried to hide the fists he’d clenched in frustration under the table.</p><p>“I hate this,” he said, keeping his voice soft in case anyone was listening in on them. “I don’t know what’s happening and I hate it!”</p><p>“It’s okay, Luke!” Trucy hopped onto the table and made herself as comfortable as she could without a chair. “Daddy’s fantastic! You know that, right?”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t say a word.</p><p>Just shoved his hands into his pockets.</p><p>When Luke looked up at him, he couldn’t help noticing the expression on his friend’s face. Again he looked as though he was about to break down crying.</p><p>“Mr Wright, are you okay?” he asked. “You still haven’t told us what happened in that trial earlier!”</p><p>“Luke, it’s okay,” said Trucy. “That was…” She offered him a small shrug. “…it just happens sometimes. We can deal with it, I promise.”</p><p>Her father released a long, exhausted sigh.</p><p>“…yeah,” he said.</p><p>Luke swallowed hard and hoped it went unnoticed.</p><p>It would be best not to press that point. Not right now, at least. The last thing they needed was for Phoenix to suffer another panic attack right here in the station. With how that officer had behaved, it would probably lead to them all getting arrested for disturbing the peace.</p><p>“It feels weird though, doesn’t it?” asked Trucy. “We only saw Mr Oldfart this morning. Do you think he’s really dead?”</p><p>“If not dead, then most likely severely injured,” Luke replied. “I’m sure the Professor wouldn’t have been arrested for no reason, would he?”</p><p>He had to admit that she was right. It felt strange that a person they’d only met and were beginning to get to know <em> that very day </em> had suddenly been ripped out of existence.</p><p>It was terrible, but Luke almost felt relieved that they weren’t close with Mr Oldfart. If they were, this whole situation would feel so, so much more difficult to handle. It was awful to think that he was <em> happy </em> that he was struggling to feel empathy for these people.</p><p>“Let’s save our freak-out for after we’ve got some more information,” said Phoenix.</p><p>“Luke, you know the Professor better than either of us,” Trucy pointed out. “Are you totally <em> sure </em> he-”</p><p>“He wouldn’t kill anyone!” There was no way Luke was going to let her finish that sentence. “He goes out of his way to avoid hurting people! E-even if someone threatens his family or closest friends, he doesn’t do ANYTHING to them! I’ve seen him get into sword fights with people and he ALWAYS takes the defence-”</p><p>“Alright, I get it!” snapped Phoenix. “Let’s just…”</p><p>He took a deep breath.</p><p>“…try to cool our heads,” he said softly. “It’s never a good idea to panic in front of your client. Even if that client is someone you’re friends with.”</p><p>He set his elbows on the table and leaned his face into his hands.</p><p>“…we’ll be fine…” he muttered.</p><p>Luke opened his mouth to ask another question, but before he got the chance, the door opened and a familiar figure was pushed into the room.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” His dark eyes fell upon his apprentice. “Luke!”</p><p>“Professor!” Luke sprang up from his seat and threw himself into the Professor’s arms.</p><p>“You’ve got twenty minutes,” the officer said bluntly before he closed the door.</p><p>It felt like torture, but Luke managed to release Layton and press himself away, and noticed something utterly bizarre.</p><p>“Professor, are you okay?” he asked. “Where’s your hat?!”</p><p>Layton’s hand wandered up to his bare head. He was already a man of rather short stature, but now that he was separated from his favourite item of headwear, he looked nothing short of <em> tiny</em>. He didn’t even have the excuse Luke did of still being a teenager.</p><p>“I’m alright, Luke,” he said, resting his bare hand in his mess of brown hair. “The officer confiscated my hat on the premise that I could use it to conceal something. I’ve been promised that I can have it back for the trial tomorrow, as it won’t be possible to hide a knife on my head while in police custody.”</p><p>“Tomorrow, huh?” Luke felt despair welling in his stomach as he and the Professor sat down across the table from one-another. “So they’re really following through with this?”</p><p>The Professor rested his hands on the table in front of him. Luke mentally promised himself that if the officer had handcuffed his mentor at any point in the evening, he would personally tear this entire building to shreds.</p><p>“I’ve been told that the officer phoned the mayor to discuss their course of action,” Layton explained, eyes downcast at his hands. “As with earlier today, a trial is to be conducted tomorrow morning to determine my guilt. I’ve been promised that Ms Michaela Skellig shall see me hang by midnight.”</p><p>“Hang?!” Trucy jumped down from the table in shock. “They can’t hang you!”</p><p>“I’m around 80% sure he was exaggerating,” the Professor replied calmly.</p><p>“That’s still awful!” Luke argued. “It hasn’t even been a full hour, has it? And they’ve already decided you’re guilty!”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole village knows by now,” said Phoenix, his voice still soft as if in resignation. “At least we get to avoid dealing with mob mentality this time.”</p><p>“It hasn’t been all bad, my boy,” Layton said to Luke. “Officer Poe was kind enough to provide me with a cup of tea.”</p><p>He cast his eyes towards the door in something that looked almost like a rather uncharacteristic glare.</p><p>“Or at least, something that <em> resembled </em> tea.”</p><p>“Oof,” Luke winced. “That bad, huh?”</p><p>“I have no idea what kind of tea it was supposed to be,” Layton said bitterly. “My suspicion is that it was meant to be English Breakfast, but I’m more inclined to say it was Imperial Leather.”</p><p>“<em>Eurgh</em>.” Luke cringed at the idea.</p><p>“What’s Imperial Leather?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Ah, well…” The Professor paused to consider how best to explain it. “It’s a brand of soap.”</p><p>“Your tea tasted like soap?” Trucy exclaimed in disgust. “Ew!”</p><p>“Back to the point,” Phoenix interjected before the tea complaints could go any further. “Professor, you need to tell us what happened tonight. Walk us through it from the beginning. Don’t you dare leave <em> anything </em> out.”</p><p>The Professor responded with a slow nod.</p><p>“I understand,” he said, “but it’s a lot simpler than you may have been led to believe. After I left the King’s Arms, I decided to examine the surrounding area to see if there was any path nearby leading to the Pictish Shrine that we heard mentioned earlier, but I felt as though something was moving nearby. I investigated with the help of my now-confiscated lantern, but I couldn’t see anyone else on the street with me.”</p><p>His eyes wandered down, face falling in sorrow.</p><p>“Not anyone alive, at least,” he continued. “All I saw was Mr Oldfart lying dead in the snow. I wasn’t sure if he was dead at first, so I moved closer to inspect, and that’s when Officer Poe appeared and apprehended me.”</p><p>He looked down at his fingers.</p><p>Checking his nails?</p><p>“I should let you know that I’d accidentally got blood on my glove while I was checking for a pulse,” he explained, “and I have a feeling that’s going to factor into the prosecution’s argument tomorrow.”</p><p>“That sounds awful,” Luke couldn’t help but say. “You were planning to report what you’d found, weren’t you?”</p><p>“Of course,” said Layton. “I may be respected for my investigative skills, but I know better than to attempt to solve a murder mystery all on my own and without telling any other persons about what I was doing. I had every intention of visiting this very office and telling whoever I found here what I had discovered…”</p><p>“But instead they came to you?” asked Trucy.</p><p>The Professor confirmed her question with a nod.</p><p>“W-wait.” Trucy tapped her chin with a frown. “How did they find you so quick? I know it isn’t far from the station to the inn, but you were first on the scene, weren’t you? Somebody <em> must </em>have known, right?”</p><p>“Your guess is as good as mine, young lady,” Layton told her. “I’m afraid I haven’t been allowed to conduct any investigation of my own, so everything I’ve told you is all I’ve been able to discover concerning the situation thus far. Nor has Officer Poe told me anything he knows. I can’t say I’m entirely surprised by that, seeing as I’m the main suspect. Of course I would be kept in the dark.”</p><p>“You don’t have any motive, do you?” Luke asked. “No reason to kill Mr Oldfart?”</p><p>Layton cradled his chin in thought.</p><p>“I suppose it could be spun that I was angry with him for attempting to besmirch Dr Wallace’s name,” he considered, “but I barely know Dr Wallace as it is. So no, I have no motive at all.”</p><p>He lowered his hand with a frown.</p><p>It felt so strange to be able to see his eyebrows. Just the removal of an item of clothing was enough to make him look like an entirely different person.</p><p>“I would very much like to go out and investigate this myself,” he said, “but I have a feeling that attempting to do so would only worsen my situation.”</p><p>“You don’t have anything to worry about, Professor,” Luke told him, clenching his fist in determination. “All three of us believe in your innocence and we’re going to prove it! Right, Mr Wright?”</p><p>He turned to Phoenix.</p><p>But Phoenix wasn’t moving.</p><p>All he was doing was sitting there, staring at Layton with undeniable suspicion.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” Luke tried to keep his confusion out of his voice.</p><p>“Daddy?” said Trucy. “You know Mr Layton didn’t kill anyone, right?”</p><p>Phoenix’s shoulders heaved as he sighed, and then at last, he spoke:</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Huh?!” Trucy’s jaw dropped in horror.</p><p>“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Luke didn’t bother to hide his outrage. “Of course the Professor is innocent!”</p><p>“There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” said Phoenix. “We can’t be sure if we don’t have all the necessary information.”</p><p>“But Mr Wright, you KNOW Professor Layton!” Luke sprang to his feet and slammed one hand on the table. “You know he wouldn’t kill anyone! Especially someone he doesn’t even know!”</p><p>“No, Luke,” Phoenix said sharply. “I <em> don’t </em> know that.”</p><p>“Daddy, what are you talking about?!” cried Trucy. “Of course we know! I only met the Professor yesterday, but he’s a really nice guy! How could you think he killed someone?!”</p><p>“I didn’t say that,” said Phoenix. “I didn’t say I think he’s guilty. I just said that I <em> don’t know</em>. And I <em> won’t </em> know until I can see everything for myself.”</p><p>Luke’s heart could not possibly have plummeted harder.</p><p>He barely even felt anything as he took back his seat.</p><p>How? How could Mr Wright say something like that? How could he <em> think </em> anything like that?</p><p>
  <em> How?! </em>
</p><p>“…Mr Wright,” he said, barely even able to raise his voice anymore. “How could you say that?!”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t even look in his direction.</p><p>His eyes remained on Layton, and it was almost unnoticeable, but his gaze started to soften.</p><p>“Are you alright, Professor?” he asked. “I know finding a corpse can be pretty stressful.”</p><p>“I’m fine, Mr Wright,” Layton replied, his calm demeanour nothing short of miraculous. “Thank you for your concern. I understand your scepticism concerning my claims, but I’m sure you’ll be better persuaded of my innocence once you can examine the scene for yourself.”</p><p>Phoenix responded with a slow nod.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said.</p><p>“Wh- Mr Wright?” Luke realised he had forgotten that a gentleman didn’t stare, but he didn’t give a damn at this point. “How can you be suspicious of the Professor over this?”</p><p>“Daddy, how could you?” Even Trucy sounded utterly betrayed.</p><p>“I told you, I’m not saying I suspect Mr Layton!” Phoenix snapped. “I’m saying I don’t know enough yet!”</p><p>It was almost a relief that the door opened and interrupted their conversation, and the police officer from the front desk – Officer Poe, the Professor had called him – appeared in the doorway.</p><p>“Alright, it’s been ten minutes, get out,” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.</p><p>Luke couldn’t help but frown. That hadn’t been what he’d said last time, was it?</p><p>“Huh?” Apparently Trucy had noticed the contradiction too. “You said we have twenty minutes!”</p><p>“What?” Officer Poe looked taken aback. “No I didn’t!”</p><p>“You said it loud and clear!” Luke exclaimed. “Twenty minutes!”</p><p>Officer Poe’s frown deepened.</p><p>“I’ll be right back,” he said, and with that he stepped back and shut the door again.</p><p>Even Phoenix seemed confused by that.</p><p>“What the heck?” he spat. “He definitely said twenty minutes, didn’t he?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Layton agreed. “I heard it too, but I was hesitant to remind him, what with my pre-existing circumstances.”</p><p>“I swear,” Luke growled, “if he tells us to leave…”</p><p>“Are you really going to be okay, Professor?” asked Trucy. “I’ve never been arrested before, but it must be really scary, right?”</p><p>By some miracle, the Professor managed a smile.</p><p>“Your concern is very sweet,” he told her, “but I’ll be fine, I promise. Strangely enough, this isn’t my first time being arrested for a crime I didn’t commit.”</p><p>He cast a knowing look in Luke’s direction.</p><p>“However,” he said, “I’d prefer not to have to break out this time.”</p><p>“Oh, now THAT sounds like a story!” cried Trucy.</p><p>“A story that’ll have to wait for another time,” said Phoenix, and he pushed himself up out of his chair. “We’ve got an investigation to conduct.”</p><p>Luke’s heart fell again.</p><p>He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave his closest friend in such a terrible situation.</p><p>There wasn’t any choice, was there?</p><p>Judging by that officer’s behaviour, trying to stay any longer would just land them all in even more trouble.</p><p>“…fine,” he sighed.</p><p>“I’m sure that by the time your investigation is concluded, Mr Wright,” Layton said calmly, “you’ll be fully convinced of my innocence.”</p><p>Phoenix seemed unable to look in his direction.</p><p>“Yeah,” he said softly. “Sure.”</p><p>“Huh?” Trucy tugged on her father’s sleeve. “Daddy, come on!”</p><p>“Exactly,” Phoenix said bluntly, stepping back from the table and turning to the door. “Come on. Let’s go. It’s only going to get colder out there as the night goes on and I’m not letting either of you freeze to death tonight.”</p><p>“I understand,” said the Professor. “Mr Wright?”</p><p>Phoenix hesitated at the door.</p><p>“Good luck.”</p><p>With his back to him, it was hard to tell what kind of expression Phoenix had now, but his head was hung as if in shame.</p><p>“Thanks,” he said.</p><p>He opened the door and pulled his daughter through behind him, and Luke somehow found the willpower to get up to follow him.</p><p>“Luke?”</p><p>He froze.</p><p>“May I have one last private word with you?” Layton stood up as he spoke.</p><p>“Of course!” cried Luke.</p><p>The Professor stood up as well, clearly wanting this conversation to be as private as possible.</p><p>“It’s clear by now that something may have happened to Mr Wright that caused him to become suspicious,” he said, his voice hushed and hoarse. “He’s refused to talk about it, but do try to be patient with him. I really do understand his unwillingness to believe my innocence when he doesn’t have all the evidence he needs to prove it.”</p><p>He cast a glance up at the door.</p><p>“If you want me to be honest,” he said, “I’m surprised you aren’t suspicious of me too.”</p><p>“That’s because I <em> trust </em> you, Professor,” Luke said sourly. “Something Mr Wright seems to be struggling with.”</p><p>But when he saw how saddened the Professor was at his remark, his mind immediately filled with regret.</p><p>Layton really wanted to believe in Phoenix, didn’t he?</p><p>And to think that Phoenix was throwing it back into his face…</p><p>“In any case,” he said, “I wish you luck with your investigation, my boy.”</p><p>Luke couldn’t hold it in anymore. He threw his arms around the Professor again, wishing with all his heart that he didn’t have to let go.</p><p>“We’ll prove you didn’t do it!” he swore. “We’re going to prove you innocent! I promise!”</p><p>He tightened his grip as Layton returned his hug.</p><p>“I know you will, Luke,” he said, and Luke almost wanted to cry at the thought of having to leave him like this. “Do your best.”</p><p>And even though it felt as though he was leaving a piece of himself behind, Luke ripped himself away from the Professor and followed Phoenix and his daughter, leaving his closest friend alone and surrounded by strangers there was no way they could trust.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Colour Out of Snow part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The world was a monochromatic wash of black and golden yellow, the snow glowing under the light of the street lamps, and Luke nestled into his scarf and coat to keep himself warm as he hurried past the Sacred Well – somehow not frozen in the cold – and up the path to the street. As it had been last night, the freezing air was pierced by violin music emanating from who knows where and the shrill sounds cut into Luke’s head like a needle pressed right into his ears.</p><p>He could see his friends’ bodies shadowed in the glow cast from the Kings’ Arms. Trucy was tapping on her chin and peering around at the ground, idly kicking her foot back and forth, her form distinguishable by her hat and the shape of her cloak. Mr Wright was easier to notice thanks to his near-incandescent hat, squatting beside a crumpled heap in the middle of the street.</p><p>He wasn’t alone.</p><p>Luke squinted, trying to make out any details he could recognise. Dark ponytail, white coat…</p><p>“Dr Wallace?” he asked just to make sure, his breath billowing out into the air like a dragon.</p><p>“Nice of you to join us, Luke,” Phoenix commented without looking back at him. “The Doc was just getting us all caught up on the crime scene.”</p><p>Luke plunged his hands into his pockets, idly hooking that stone around his finger again, and took a deep breath as he drew closer to where the pair were kneeling.</p><p>It was hard to tell even from a small distance, and on such a dark night, but the man lying in the snow in front of them wasn’t moving. Thank goodness the tinny smell of snow was drowning out however terribly the blood he’d heard about smelled.</p><p>“…so he…” Luke swallowed. “…he really is dead?”</p><p>“Not breathing,” said Dr Wallace, “doesn’t have a pulse, stone bloody cold and oh yes, a puncture wound on the neck.” He straightened up and dusted the snow off his knees. “I’ve been asked to conduct a proper post-mortem examination, but for now I can confirm that this man is morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely, undeniably and reliably <em> dead</em>.”</p><p>Every word felt like a punch in Luke’s face and he recoiled from the doctor in self-defence.</p><p>“Yes, I…” he said nervously. “I get the point.”</p><p>“Trucy, I better not see you looking,” Phoenix called over his shoulder.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Daddy!” Trucy replied. “I’m keeping my eyes good and averted, just like you told me!”</p><p>Phoenix cradled his chin and rested one knee down in the snow to keep his balance.</p><p>“Are we to assume that puncture wound is the cause of death?” he asked.</p><p>“It’s difficult to tell at this stage,” Dr Wallace sighed. “Like I said, I’ve been asked to perform a post-mortem. Without disturbing the body, I can’t make out any evidence of blunt force trauma or strangulation, although it wouldn’t surprise me if all that blood was hiding it.”</p><p>He squatted down again and ran a finger through the snow beside the corpse.</p><p>“Judging by the state of the body,” he said, “I’m hazarding a guess that he’s been dead for around an hour.”</p><p>“Did you take a photo of the crime scene?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>“That was the first thing I did when I arrived,” Dr Wallace replied. “Wanted to capture the scene as I found it. I’ll get my photos printed for you by tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Phoenix said bluntly.</p><p>Luke looked back over his shoulder to where Trucy was now twisting her foot on the snow, hands clasped behind her back.</p><p>Only ten years old and she was standing right here at a murder scene…</p><p>“Are you okay, Trucy?” He jogged over to where she stood and hugged his upper arms. “Being around a dead body and all?”</p><p>“Daddy doesn’t want me to look,” Trucy replied calmly, “but this actually isn’t my first time seeing a dead guy.”</p><p>While Luke tried to figure out which horrified reaction would be most appropriate, she looked up at him with a sweet little smile.</p><p>“I saw my grandpa when he was dead and that was only a couple of years ago!” she explained.</p><p>A gentleman didn’t pry, Luke reminded himself. This wasn’t something he needed to know about. A gentleman did <em> not </em> pry.</p><p>“But isn’t it scary?” he asked in place of the myriad of questions that were blurring through his mind. “I know I’m older than you, but I’m really uncomfortable right now! How come you don’t have any problems with this?”</p><p>“It’s just a bit weird is all,” said Trucy, dropping her smile seemingly just for Luke’s sake. “Like when it was Grandpa Magnifi. Aside from the hole in the middle of his forehead, he looked like he had just fallen asleep, but it was weird knowing he was never going to wake up again. And that somebody else had done it to him.”</p><p>She looked down at her boots again, coloured gold by the streetlights, and traced her toes in a circle in the snow.</p><p>“Your grandpa was murdered?” Luke asked nervously. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”</p><p>“No, it’s okay,” Trucy said casually. “He was really grumpy and mean. He wasn’t nice to Daddy at all, especially after we lost Mom.”</p><p>She looked up at Luke with another sweet smile.</p><p>“But anyway, I’m fine!” she told him, and playfully elbowed him in the side. “You worry too much, Luke!”</p><p>“Hey, you’re five years younger than me, it’s a really cold night and we’re standing in the middle of a crime scene!” Luke pointed out. “I think I’m entitled to be a bit concerned for your wellbeing!”</p><p>He forced himself not to shiver and looked back to see how the conversation between Phoenix and the doctor was progressing.</p><p>“…okay,” he heard Phoenix say. “Thanks, doc.”</p><p>Before Luke had a chance to ask what they had been talking about, his ears picked up the sound of snow crunching underfoot from the direction of the Sacred Well. When he looked back, the figure he saw was dressed in black and a checker-banded cap.</p><p>“Can you lot hear me up there?” he called.</p><p>“Loud and clear, Officer,” Phoenix replied, and by the sound of his voice, he hadn’t bothered to look up from the body he was still examining.</p><p>“You have two hours to conduct your investigation!” shouted Officer Poe. “After that we’re taking Mr Oldfart’s body to the clinic for a post-mortem! Is that understood?”</p><p>“Yeah, we got it,” said Phoenix.</p><p>Officer Poe’s face was shadowed by his cap, but Luke had a feeling that he wouldn’t like the expression on the redhead’s face if he could see it.</p><p>“Only two hours?” he said, mostly to himself, as he turned and crunched back to where Phoenix was kneeling with his fingers resting on the snow beside the corpse. “What can we find in two hours?!”</p><p>“You’ll have to tell me,” Dr Wallace said flatly as he turned away from the crumpled body. “<em>I’ve </em> got a post-mortem to prepare for.”</p><p>He ran his hand over his slicked back hair with a heavy, exhausted sigh.</p><p>“Ridiculous,” he grumbled. “I’m a doctor, not a coroner. Took this bloody posting to get <em> away </em> from people dropping dead all around me.”</p><p>Luke found himself shrinking into his coat again as the doctor approached. It was far too cold to fiddle with his toggles.</p><p>“…um…” What was he supposed to say in a situation like this? “I’m sorry we had to ask this of you, Dr Wallace-”</p><p>“Don’t be,” Dr Wallace snapped on his way past. “Someone’s got to do this and it might as well be me. At least a dead man won’t squirm and scream when I cut him open.”</p><p>Luke watched him walk away and decided he did NOT want to know more about what that man was talking about.</p><p>“Say hi to Stefan for us!” Trucy called after him.</p><p>The doctor hesitated halfway past the Sacred Well.</p><p>“I will,” he said, almost too softly to hear.</p><p>And with that, he walked away.</p><p>Luke shared a glance with Trucy, but all she replied with was a shrug. It seemed that she didn’t know why he was so upset about his bonsai tree’s name either.</p><p>“Luke. Come over here for a sec.”</p><p>After one more look down to make sure Trucy was okay, Luke jogged back to where Phoenix was kneeling, hoping that she didn’t follow him and get too close to the dead body she claimed to have no problem with. Yes, she said she was okay, but there really wasn’t any good reason for a child so young to get so close to a corpse!</p><p>“Can you handle this?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>“Yes, I…” Luke swallowed again. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p>He pressed one of his hands to his face just in case, but he couldn’t feel any bile rising.</p><p>For now.</p><p>“The smell of snow is overpowering any smell of blood,” he said. “I know that’s strange because snow technically doesn’t have a smell but-”</p><p>“Good,” Phoenix interjected. “Last thing I want is you puking all over the crime scene.” He leaned back and looked over his shoulder. “Trucy, are you sure you’re okay?”</p><p>“I told you, Daddy!” Trucy responded. “I’m totally fine!”</p><p>“Let us know right away if you find anything!”</p><p>“I will!”</p><p>“What do you need from me, Mr Wright?” Luke interjected before their yelling annoyed the rest of the village into calling for their arrest too.</p><p>Phoenix pointed down at the corpse.</p><p>“Take a look at this,” he said.</p><p>Luke had been about to kneel down beside him to have a look at the body, but then he realised he didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking for.</p><p>“A look at what?” he asked.</p><p>“This.” Phoenix waved his hand over the area. “This entire scene. Do you notice anything weird about it?”</p><p>Even with another look around, Luke couldn’t see anything he could be specifying.</p><p>“What would we define as ‘weird’ here?” he had to ask.</p><p>He heard the distinct sound of Phoenix growling under his breath. His fist clenched in the snow his hand still rested in.</p><p>“…imagine…” he snarled through gritted teeth, then cleared his throat and sighed. “Imagine if you came upon this crime scene. All by yourself. Just stumbled upon it out of nowhere.”</p><p>He looked up at Luke.</p><p>“What would your first assumption be?”</p><p>Luke looked down at the body again.</p><p>An old man sprawled dead in the snow, lying face down, a bloody wound on his neck… there really wasn’t much there to think about.</p><p>“Um, well,” Luke said. “My first assumption would be that someone got murdered!”</p><p>“Luke, for the love of-”</p><p>Phoenix gritted his teeth and took a deep breath.</p><p>“Okay,” he said sharply. “Fine. That’s probably what I’d think too. But go deeper into it, alright?” He turned back to the body. “What would your first assumption be besides ‘somebody got killed’?”</p><p>Luke just couldn’t help but frown again. It was obvious Phoenix was referring to something suspicious, but what in the world was it?</p><p>The position Mr Oldfart was lying in? No, that didn’t make sense. There wasn’t anything wrong with a dead person lying face down with one hand beside his face and his legs laid out straight, head on one side, eyes staring emptily out into nothingness and blank and glassy and staring like the eyes of a doll but also entirely <em> human- </em></p><p>No. No, time to stop thinking like that. It was only going to make him sick.</p><p>But then again, what could Phoenix be talking about?</p><p>“I…” Luke started, but then reconsidered. “Mr Wright, what are you getting at? I’m not sure what you want me to say.”</p><p>Phoenix cast him a glare of annoyance before frowning back down at the body.</p><p>“One of my earliest cases concerned a TV star who’d been killed at the studio where the show he featured in was filmed,” he told Luke. “The role he played required him to wear a large, bulky costume, and he was wearing that costume when his body was found. Cause of death was chest impalement.”</p><p>Luke didn’t try to hide the shudder than ran down his spine. His hand, still in his pocket, clenched over his stomach. It was horrible to imagine what that must have felt like, how painful it must have been, the sensation of blood pouring out of his chest and there being no way to stem the flow and save his life…</p><p>“When Maya and I first examined the crime scene,” Phoenix continued, “our assumption was that the heavy costume the victim had been wearing absorbed all the blood from when he had been killed. Do you want to guess why we assumed that?”</p><p>It took a moment or two for Luke to regain his senses. This wasn’t the time or place, he reminded himself. He had an investigation he needed to pay attention to. There wasn’t any time to get distracted by thoughts of what it felt like to die.</p><p>“I… uh…”</p><p>He cleared his throat, hoping his discomfort would go unnoticed.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Mr Wright,” he said. “I don’t know. That sounds like a rather reasonable thing to think!”</p><p>The glare Phoenix shot up at him was so harsh that Luke almost jumped back in fright.</p><p>Thank goodness it only lasted for a moment or two.</p><p>“Let me put it a different way,” Phoenix said, and he looked around to where Trucy was still searching for something, apparently making sure she was out of immediate earshot. “Luke, if you stumbled upon someone who’d been stabbed in the neck or chest, what’s something you’d expect to see a lot of?”</p><p>Luke swallowed. There was only one real answer to that question, but the very thought of it was churning his insides like a stormy sea.</p><p>“Blood?” he put forth. “Surely there’d be a massive pool of blood, wouldn’t there?”</p><p>Impaled through the chest? That would be… messy…</p><p>“Wait,” Luke said. “Even if he’d been wearing a bulky costume-”</p><p>It didn’t make any sense!</p><p>“I’m not sure how much blood the human body contains,” Luke tried to recall his biology classes, “but surely a fatal loss is at least a couple of litres! There would be a <em> lot </em> of blood!”</p><p>“But there wasn’t,” said Phoenix. “Tell me, Luke. Can you think of any explanation for why there’s no blood on the crime scene?”</p><p>No blood… no blood at the scene of a murder where the cause of death was almost certainly catastrophic haemorrhaging…</p><p>…but if it wasn’t here at the scene, then where would it be?</p><p>“…the only thing I can think of is…” Luke pondered. “…if there <em> has </em> to be blood at the crime scene, but there isn’t, then that means… this…”</p><p>His eyes wandered down to the snow that surrounded Mr Oldfart’s body, sparkling pristine and white, lit up by the yellow light from the Kings’ Arms…</p><p>Wait a minute. Pristine? White?</p><p>“Where the body was found <em> isn’t </em> the crime scene?” he asked.</p><p>“Correct,” said Phoenix. “Now then. How much blood do you see right here and now?”</p><p>“Aside from the body, there’s…” Luke scrutinised the snow as hard as he could without kneeling down and getting closer to the corpse. “There’s none!” he realised. “I don’t see any at all!”</p><p>“Exactly,” Phoenix responded.</p><p>“So Mr Oldfart was killed elsewhere?” Luke asked, but then another thought came to him. “No, wait! The snow! Isn’t it possible the blood got buried under the snow?”</p><p>“That’s a good point,” said Phoenix. “Wrong, but good. Take another look at the body. Notice anything?”</p><p>Luke pressed his hand harder into his stomach in the hopes that would stop it churning. He <em> really </em> didn’t want to get any closer to this dead person than he already was-</p><p>No, he didn’t have to, did he?</p><p>“If the blood got buried under the snow, then Mr Oldfart would have some snow on him too,” he put together, “wouldn’t he?”</p><p>Phoenix snapped his fingers and pointed up at Luke in such a way as to say ‘bingo.’</p><p>“But he doesn’t,” Luke went on, “and we’d definitely be able to see snow on his body, so this isn’t the crime scene, is it? We’re looking at- someone dumped Mr Oldfart here to be found!”</p><p>“A pretty bold move as far as murders go,” said Phoenix. “Most body dumps take the murderer to somewhere secluded. The less chance of someone finding the body, the less chance of the killer getting caught. Unless they’re specifically looking to frame someone else, to leave the body somewhere everyone can see it is basically the killer’s way of saying ‘you’re never going to find me’.”</p><p>There wasn’t anything Luke could say to disagree with that, was there?</p><p>“So our killer is somebody who’s pretty confident in themse-”</p><p>He froze, horror flooding into his veins, when he realised what Phoenix was probably thinking by now.</p><p>“<em>No</em>,” he said firmly.</p><p>“No what?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>“No, Mr Wright,” said Luke, hands curling into fists in his pockets. “I know what you want to say. You’re thinking about how confident the Professor is, aren’t you?”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t respond.</p><p>He frowned down at Mr Oldfart’s body as though he hadn’t heard a single word Luke had said.</p><p>Luke, for his part, pulled his fists out of his pockets for Phoenix to see how angry he was.</p><p>“Would you mind telling me what’s wrong with you, Mr Wright?” he demanded. “What has Professor Layton ever done to suggest to you that he might even consider hurting someone, let alone actively killing them?”</p><p>Still Phoenix didn’t say a word.</p><p>Luke couldn’t help gritting his teeth in frustration. He knew deliberate ignorance when he saw it and this was the <em> last </em>person he wanted to see it from.</p><p>“Answer me, Mr Wright!” he cried. “The Professor is the kindest man I’ve ever known in my entire life! How dare you even <em> think </em> that he would do something as terrible as take someone’s life?! What on earth could make you think that a gentleman like him-”</p><p>“<em>You don’t know that!</em>”</p><p>Before Luke had a chance to react, Phoenix was on his feet and looming over Luke like the mountains that surrounded them.</p><p>“You might THINK you do, but how the hell do you know what someone’s thinking?!” he shouted. “What’s the Professor ever done to suggest he <em> wouldn’t </em> kill somebody someday?”</p><p>“He always treats people with courtesy and respect!’ Luke yelled back without thinking. “Are you going to try to convince me that’s all just an act?!”</p><p>“How do you know it isn’t?” Phoenix spat. “Show me your evidence that he wouldn’t kill someone! Show me your concrete indisputable proof!”</p><p>“I don’t have anything physical and you know it!” Luke snapped.</p><p>“EXACTLY!” Phoenix’s shout was enough to make Luke step back in shock. “You NEVER know what people are going to do from one day to the next! You might think somebody you know is the kindest, sweetest, most incredible person in existence but then the next thing you know, they’ll poison your medicine and frame you for murder! They’ll look lovely and innocent and then they’ll set you up to RUIN YOUR OWN LIFE!”</p><p>His eyes were wild with fury.</p><p>Luke took another step back, hands half raised in defence.</p><p>“M-Mr Wright-”</p><p>“Don’t you DARE tell me there’s no chance in hell that someone you know could do something awful.” Phoenix prodded hard on Luke’s chest, causing him to stumble back even further. “You only think there’s no chance the Professor could’ve done this because you’re just a kid and you’ve had him on a pedestal for god knows how long and never stopped to consider that he might be a <em> person</em>. And PEOPLE will do horrible things and they sometimes don’t even need a reason for it! How do you know the idea of killing someone never crossed his mind, huh? How do you know he’s never thought about electrocuting someone o-or stabbing them right in the back?!”</p><p>Luke stayed quiet.</p><p>What on earth could he say in response to something like <em> that? </em></p><p>Apparently sensing that the argument was over, Phoenix kneeled back down next to the body. Luke blinked hard and shook his head; a gentleman didn’t stare, after all.</p><p>He looked back down at Phoenix.</p><p>He could have sworn he felt the bitterness pouring off his body. A potent miasma of anger and sadness.</p><p>“Mr Wright, is…” Luke took a cautious step back towards his friend. “…is that what happened to you?”</p><p>“Stop, alright?” said Phoenix, his voice audibly cracked around the edges. “Just <em> stop</em>. I know you want to trust your friend. It’s honestly sweet how much you believe in him. But here’s a little bit of advice for you, Luke.”</p><p>When he turned back to look at Luke, Phoenix’s face was burning bright red, visible even in the yellow light that surrounded them.</p><p>“Your life will get a whole lot easier if you just trust <em> no-one</em>.”</p><p>And then he turned away again.</p><p>Luke’s breath came shaky and slow. A hard, painful knot formed itself in the back of his throat as heat rushed to his face. He couldn’t even remember the last time somebody had spoken to him with such…</p><p>…such rage. Such vehement <em> hatred</em>.</p><p>Almost every instinct in his body was screaming at him to get away. Flee back to the cottage and lock the door.</p><p>But they were overridden by Luke’s desire to know <em> why</em>. Why Mr Wright was acting so different to how he had been when they had last investigated together. Why he had become so harsh, so stubborn, so extraordinarily <em> cold. </em></p><p>Luke pushed his hands as deep into his pockets as he could.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said, and immediately regretted how weak his voice sounded.</p><p>Phoenix didn’t say a word, nor did he look in Luke’s direction. Not that Luke could consider it much of a negative, since it meant Phoenix didn’t see him wiping his eyes on the back of his hand.</p><p>“Does that mean you don’t trust me?” he asked, and tried to swallow the painful knot that cracked his voice. “What about Trucy? You don’t trust your own daughter?”</p><p>Phoenix’s silence was crushing.</p><p>The only sound in the entire village was the piercing violin that echoed around the buildings.</p><p>Luke wiped his eyes again and hoped nobody saw, and drew a breath deep enough to prevent his voice from shaking.</p><p>“I trust <em> you</em>, Mr Wright,” he said.</p><p>Against all odds, Phoenix’s face fell even further.</p><p>“Then you’re stupider than you look.”</p><p>It wasn’t worth rising to that anymore, Luke decided. Better to just let him think he’d won whatever battle he thought he was fighting.</p><p>So much for trying to convince him the Professor was innocent.</p><p>“What’re you guys yelling about?”</p><p>Trucy came stamping over with her arms crossed and a face of almost teacherly annoyance.</p><p>“It’s nothing, sweetie,” Phoenix lied. “Just a, um…” He finally stood up and brushed the snow off his knee. “Just a disagreement.”</p><p>To Luke’s relief, she folded her arms and gave her father a distinctly disbelieving look.</p><p>“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I think the Professor is innocent.”</p><p>“Do you now?” asked Phoenix with a smile that made Luke want to punch him in the face. “Mind sharing your reasoning?”</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Trucy. “He was with us the whole evening! He never left even once! Yeah, he went to the bathroom one time, but not only did we see him go and come back but he wasn’t gone long enough to get out the window and go kill someone, was he?”</p><p>“You have some pretty solid reasoning,” Phoenix said to Luke’s surprise, stroking his chin in thought, “but there’s one thing you need to think about, Truce.”</p><p>He twisted Trucy’s head by the top of her hat to prevent her from looking at the corpse.</p><p>“Mr Oldfart doesn’t have any snow on his body,” he explained, “and the Professor didn’t leave the Kings’ Arms until the snow had stopped, did he?”</p><p>“That’s still no proof that he’s guilty!” Luke couldn’t help pointing out. “Don’t you remember he said there was someone moving? It’s entirely possible the killer made the dump right as the Professor was leaving!”</p><p>“Hmm…” Trucy looked down at her feet as she kicked back and forth in the snow again. “What about footprints? Could that give us some clues?”</p><p>“Yeah, it could. Good call.” Phoenix gave her an affectionate little pat on top of her hat, but his smile didn’t take long to fade. “Trouble is, with the Professor and Officer Poe and Dr Wallace and <em> us </em> all moving around, we can’t tell if there were any footprints in the snow before we got here, can we?”</p><p>Luke’s heart somehow dropped even further. Much as he hated to agree with a man whose character he was seriously beginning to question, Phoenix was right, no pun intended.</p><p>Unless…</p><p>“Dr Wallace’s photo!” Luke gasped. “He said he took a photo of the crime scene when he first arrived! Do you think that could help us?”</p><p>Rather than the snap he had been expecting, Phoenix stroked his stubbly chin, eyes cast skyward in thought.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s possible,” he said. “Depending on how far away he was taking that photo from, it could give us a pretty clear view of how many people went through this area before it was discovered by the Professor and the cops.”</p><p>The suggestion caused Luke’s heart to soar right back into its proper position. Maybe he could still win over Mr Wright after all!</p><p>One of the words he had said was bothersome though. Luke rolled it around in his brain, trying to work out what about it was grating on him.</p><p>“…discovered…” It wasn’t until he said it aloud that he realised. “Trucy, back in the interview room, you pointed out that it was strange how Officer Poe showed up right after the Professor found the body, right?”</p><p>“Hey yeah, I did!” said Trucy. “How did he get here so fast?”</p><p>“Yeah, that…” Phoenix’s eyes narrowed as he continued thinking. “That is a bit strange.”</p><p>“Are Scottish cops just way faster than American cops?” Trucy wondered.</p><p>“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Phoenix said with a shrug. “Though in my experience, the American police are all about their quick response.”</p><p>He turned her head again as her eyes wandered downwards.</p><p>“Did you find anything that might be able to help us?” he asked.</p><p>“Nuh-uh.” Trucy shook her head. “Didn’t find any blood or weird footprints or weapons or whatever. I <em> did </em> find some stairs going up the hill near the tavern-” She pointed to one side of the building in question. “-but they’re dark and they look icy and I got too scared to see where they went.”</p><p>“Going up the hill?” Luke looked in the direction she had indicated. “They probably go up to where the…”</p><p>His eyes wandered up the paralysing slope to the top of the shadowed mountain that loomed over their heads. It was too dark to see the person up there and nearby light pollution was drowning out anything they <em> could </em> have noticed, but the sound of that violin was unmistakable.</p><p>“Wow, he’s still playing?” Luke said in alarm.</p><p>“Didn’t your research suggest the Minstrel plays all night?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>“Yes, but I didn’t think it literally meant <em> all night!</em>” Luke pointed out. “What’s the time now?”</p><p>“I think it’s, uh…”</p><p>Trucy was already in the process of checking her wrists when she realised she wasn’t wearing a watch.</p><p>“I have no idea,” she said. “Daddy?”</p><p>“Sorry,” said Phoenix. “I sold my watch three months ago.”</p><p>With that question having gone nowhere, Luke held his hat to his head and looked as far up the mountain as he could.</p><p>The tune being played was familiar.</p><p>Where was it from?</p><p>“What’s he playing this time?” he wondered aloud. “It sounds like…” Nope, no matter how hard he wracked his brain, he couldn’t place it. “…ugh, I swear I’ve heard it before…”</p><p>“Phantom of the Opera,” said Phoenix. “He’s playing Masquerade.”</p><p>Even though it was something a gentleman should never do, Luke whipped around and stared at Phoenix in shock. Not that he recognised the song, but that he recognised it as a song from a <em> stage musical. </em></p><p>“Wow, a showtune?” Apparently Trucy somehow didn’t think this was odd in the slightest. “I would’ve thought he’d have to stick to old Celtic jigs and stuff.”</p><p>Phoenix gave her a shrug.</p><p>“Well, in olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking,” he said, “but now God knows, anything goes.”</p><p>Wow. First it was Lloyd Webber, now Cole Porter?!</p><p>“Mr Wright?” Luke decided he HAD to get to the bottom of this. “You like <em> showtunes?!</em>”</p><p>“I wouldn’t say ‘like’,” Phoenix replied, turning around and kneeling in front of Mr Oldfart’s body again. “More like ‘know against my will’. Blame the lessons I took in college.”</p><p>“Lessons?” asked Luke, desperate to know if Mr Wright was a theatre student. “What lessons?”</p><p>“Took me three years to get all my credits,” Phoenix told him. “I took an undergraduate degree in minding my own goddamn business.”</p><p>Ah.</p><p>That was how it was, was it?</p><p>“Oh.” Luke didn’t try too hard to mask his disappointment. “Oh, okay.”</p><p>Just when he thought he might be able to connect with him and get him to open up about something…</p><p>Luke dug his hands into his pockets again, idly hooking his finger around the stone he had been given. For a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, he took it out again to give it another look.</p><p>Given Phoenix’s attitude, would it be worth trying to tell him about it? Maybe Trucy would be interested, but even then, there was no guarantee. No, she was all about magic, wasn’t she? So of course she’d be interested in the supernatural.</p><p>It was impressive how smooth the stone was. Whoever that kid was that had given it to him, he definitely seemed to have polished it well. Either that or it was worn smooth from years upon years of use.</p><p>The last time he had looked through it, he’d seen a flood of translucent humanoid figures wandering around the village.</p><p>The Professor had passed it off as pareidolia – and Luke himself had explained this dismissal to Trucy not six hours prior – but much as he had tried to hide it, he’d obviously been shaken after taking a look himself.</p><p>Luke gritted his teeth.</p><p>This was a very, <em> very </em> bad idea.</p><p>And yet still he raised the stone to his eye and, after trying his best to steel himself for whatever he might see, he looked through it.</p><p>“AAGH!”</p><p>He stumbled back so suddenly that he tripped and fell flat on his backside in the snow.</p><p>“What is it?” Trucy came running over and grabbed his hand to help him up. “Luke, what’s wrong?”</p><p>He kept the stone to his eye as she steadied him on his feet.</p><p>“…th-th…” he stammered. “…this…”</p><p>His other hand flew up to keep him from dropping the stone.</p><p>“THIS ISN’T PAREIDOLIA!” he screamed.</p><p>When he lowered the stone, he saw nothing. Save for him, Phoenix, Trucy and the late Mr Oldfart, the street was completely empty.</p><p>“What’re you talking about?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>But when he raised the stone again…</p><p>“I-I can only see them when I look through this stone,” Luke explained, “but they’re- it’s <em> people!</em>”</p><p>There were a lot more of them here than he had seen on the far side of the village last night. The snowy street was <em> thick </em> with them. They flocked between the buildings in groups so thick that Luke couldn’t even see the walls or the streetlamps behind them anymore.</p><p>“There are PEOPLE walking all over the place!” The sheer terror pounding in his heart made it impossible to keep his voice down. “And theyOH GOD ONE JUST TOUCHED MY ARM!”</p><p>He hugged that arm to his chest to protect it.</p><p>“Just ignore them,” said Phoenix without looking up.</p><p>“Huh?!” Luke gasped. “How can I-”</p><p>“Ignore them, Luke,” Phoenix said calmly. “They aren’t trying to possess you. None of them are asking you to channel them and they aren’t attacking you, me or anyone else. Leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone right back.”</p><p>Luke turned back to him, unable to keep himself from staring, and it was in the midst of that staring that he realised something that somehow managed to be even more confusing than the presence of ghosts that he had hoped against hope didn’t actually exist.</p><p>Phoenix didn’t have a stone.</p><p>If he did, he wasn’t holding it to his eye. His hands weren’t anywhere near his face.</p><p>“Mr Wright, you…” Luke desperately searched his mind for a question he could ask that Mr Wright would actually <em> answer</em>. “Can you <em> see </em> them?!”</p><p>“Can I have a look?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Are you sure?” Luke turned his attention down in her direction. “It’s pretty scary- THERE’S ONE RIGHT BEHIND YOU!”</p><p>“AH!” Trucy yelped in shock and threw herself at Luke for a frightened hug.</p><p>“Hey!” Phoenix finally looked up. “Quit scaring my daughter!”</p><p>Luke tried to reach down and pat Trucy on her head to comfort her, but had to settle for patting on the top of her hat like Mr Wright had instead.</p><p>“…o-okay…” he said, lowering the stone away from his face. “…I… I guess you can have a look…”</p><p>He passed it down to Trucy, who fearlessly pressed it to her own eye.</p><p>“Whoa!” she cried, looking around them in amazement. “Daddy, Luke was right! Everything he told us was right! There are ghosts <em> everywhere!</em>”</p><p>Luke barely even dared to move in case he touched one of them, but managed to drum up the courage to look down at the excitable young girl peering around at the street.</p><p>“You’re not scared?” he asked.</p><p>“Why would I be?” Trucy turned up to him with the stone still over her eye. “This is really cool!” She bounced on her heels and looked back at her father. “Daddy, could I talk to them? If I can get one of these guys to help me with my magic tricks, it’d take my performances to a whole other level! Can they hold things? If they can hold things in the air and nobody can see them-”</p><p>“Wait, hang on,” said Luke. “Trucy, how come you’re not scared of this?”</p><p>“Aw, Luke,” Trucy replied with her most condescending smirk. “I already knew ghosts were a thing <em> way </em> before coming to Britain!”</p><p>“And you didn’t tell me?” Good lord, this was turning into one <em> heck </em> of an evening. “This whole time I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts or spirits or anything like that!”</p><p>“Sorry.” Phoenix lifted his hand for a brief wave. “You can blame me for that.”</p><p>Luke turned his baffled stare in Mr Wright’s direction. His casual calmness was easily the most confusing part of this entire situation.</p><p>“M-Mr Wright,” he spluttered, “what do you mean?”</p><p>Phoenix rubbed a pinch of snow between his fingers and watched the powder flutter down to the ground.</p><p>“I wanted to make sure Trucy knew she didn’t have to be frightened of them,” he explained, “so I made sure she knew about them as soon as I could. You can thank Auntie Maya and her bloodline.”</p><p>He turned a wry smirk in Luke’s direction.</p><p>“Or didn’t you know that Maya’s a spirit medium?” he asked.</p><p>“Wh- I didn’t know that!” cried Luke.</p><p>“Again though, just ignore them,” Phoenix said as he looked back down at the corpse, apparently still unable to find what he was looking for. “Didn’t that note say not to bother them or else they’d get violent?”</p><p>Luke’s blood ran cold.</p><p>“Trucy,” he said softly, “hold my hand.”</p><p>Trucy giggled as she took his hand.</p><p>“Don’t be scared, Luke!” she said happily.</p><p>“It’s a bit too late for you to tell me not to be scared!” Luke almost shouted as she continued peering around at the throng of spirits that he <em> knew </em>was still there.</p><p>“Like I said,” said Phoenix, “ignore them. Especially the one that’s right behind you.”</p><p>Luke rolled his eyes at the sound of that.</p><p>“Come on, Mr Wright,” he groaned. “Do you really think I’m gullible enough to fall for-”</p><p>“Whoa, cool!” Trucy, however, was looking behind him through the stone while still holding Luke’s hand. “Luke, check it out! This one’s REALLY tall!”</p><p>For the second time that evening, Luke’s blood iced over in his veins.</p><p>He held out his hand to Trucy, who happily slipped the stone into his palm, and although his fingers were quivering like mad, he brought it back up to his eye and turned around.</p><p>“SWEET BISCUITS!”</p><p>He leapt back so hard that his foot slipped on the icy ground and he toppled down into the snow, the stone flying out of his hand as he fell.</p><p>“Hey!” Phoenix objected as he lay there, sore and cold. “Don’t fall on the corpse while I’m still trying to investigate!”</p><p>“I won’t.” Luke tried to sit up, cringing at the chill now dripping down the back of his neck. “I won’t, I…”</p><p>When he looked up at Phoenix again, he remembered the strangeness that he had noticed earlier. Being surrounded by so many nightmarish translucent figures had distracted him from the fact that… it wasn’t possible, was it?!</p><p>“Mr Wright,” Luke said as he forced this revelation through his mind.</p><p>“Yeah?” Phoenix responded flippantly as he reached into Mr Oldfart’s pocket.</p><p>Luke sat himself up properly.</p><p>“You don’t…” It might be difficult to phrase this in a way that wouldn’t make this man upset again. “…you aren’t looking through any stone…”</p><p>“No, I’m not,” said Phoenix as he withdrew his hand. “Hmm, he still has his… what is this, a coin purse? Still got it, so we can rule out robbery. Thank god for gloves, huh?”</p><p>“Mr Wright, you…” This didn’t make any sense! “You can see the ghosts?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Phoenix replied again.</p><p>Luke shook his head to keep himself from more dumbfounded staring.</p><p>“But how is that possible?” he asked. “I-I can only assume there’s something special about that stone, because I can’t see anything without it… how are you…” He scrambled back up to his feet. “How can you see them without one?”</p><p>“Who knows?” said Phoenix, and he dug into his jeans pocket. “Could be this.”</p><p>He held up an object, one seemingly made of jade that shimmered in the streetlights, that looked almost like a frozen flame with a hole pierced through its base.</p><p>“It’s got plenty of Fey spirit juice, after all,” Phoenix stated.</p><p>“Huh?” Luke stepped forward and leaned down to take a closer look. “What is that?”</p><p>“It’s called a magatama,” Phoenix told him. “Maya gave it to me.”</p><p>“It lets him see when people are keeping secrets!” Trucy happily explained while her father pocketed the strange piece of jade. “When people try to hide things from Daddy, he sees locks on their hearts called Psyche-Locks, and breaking them means they tell him everything they’ve been trying to keep secret!”</p><p>“But I don’t look through it,” said Phoenix. “All I have to do is touch it.” He shrugged as if they were talking about something as mundane as the weather. “Guess the spiritual energy rubbed off on me.”</p><p>A living person?</p><p>‘Spiritual energy’?</p><p>There was a name for that, wasn’t there?</p><p>“But that’s…” Luke stepped back and tried to think, but there just wasn’t any other explanation that made sense. “Mr Wright, you’re <em> psychic!</em>”</p><p>Phoenix just shrugged again.</p><p>“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. I know I’m not a Fey. Pretty sure Maya or Mia would’ve told me if I was.”</p><p>The sound of an unfamiliar name momentarily distracted Luke from the exploded remnants of what used to be his mind.</p><p>“Who’s Mia?” he asked.</p><p>“My main lecturer for my classes in minding my own business,” said Phoenix.</p><p>Ugh, so that was how it was, was it?</p><p>“Okay, okay,” Luke sighed, “I get it.”</p><p>“Trucy,” said Phoenix, “you’re sure you didn’t find any murder weapon?”</p><p>“Nothing around here, at least,” Trucy replied, pressing Luke’s stone back into his hand as she spoke. “No guns, no knives, no clue where it could’ve gone.”</p><p>“I don’t think we’re dealing with a gun again,” Phoenix told her as she moved closer. “If we are, then it’s very low calibre- What are you doing?!”</p><p>Before he or Luke had any chance to react, Trucy dropped to her knees beside the body and craned right in to look at the blood-covered neck.</p><p>“Ooh, I see what you mean,” she cooed. “That’s a real small wound.”</p><p>“Trucy, get away from there!” Phoenix shot up to his feet and grabbed her around the waist to lift her clear of the corpse.</p><p>“Trucy,” Luke said as she was set down several feet from the body, “I don’t think your dad wants you getting too close to Mr Oldfart. Maybe you should do as he says?”</p><p>Phoenix sighed as he went back to examining the corpse.</p><p>“You’re right though,” he said. “Looks almost like…” He held up a hand and beckoned. “Luke, what does this remind you of?”</p><p>“Oh…” The whirlpool of Luke’s stomach started churning again. “…oh dear, um…”</p><p>He took a deep breath and held it as he moved in and kneeled beside Phoenix, who was pointing at Mr Oldfart’s neck and the blood that had poured from it. It was hard to see the wound with how dark the night was and the shadows they were all casting, but Luke could just about make out that like Trucy had said, it was small. Small and round, about half a centimetre across. Maybe less.</p><p>“…I suppose a wound that size and shape, it…” Luke’s voice was strained from how hard he was trying to hold his breath. “…could it be a knitting needle?”</p><p>He fell back onto the snow again, unable to let his lungs scream anymore.</p><p>“Do we know if anyone in the village knits?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>“Even if we asked,” said Trucy, “I don’t know if they’d tell us.”</p><p>“A wound that size just makes the lack of blood here even more suspicious,” Phoenix said, stroking his chin again, as Luke reminded himself to breathe. “I know that when someone’s throat gets slit, the blood doesn’t all come spewing out like in anime and stuff, but it’s dependent on the size of the wound. A hole this size means it’d come squirting out like a fire hose, depending on what Mr Oldfart’s blood pressure was when he died, and it’d spray all over the goddamn place-”</p><p>“Mr Wright, <em> stop</em>.” Luke slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his gag.</p><p>“Sorry,” said Phoenix. “You get what I mean. We’ll have to wait for Dr Wallace’s verdict before we can properly conclude anything, but odds are that wherever and whenever Mr Oldfart died, it was violent. Probably painful.”</p><p>He pushed himself back up to his feet and grabbed Luke around the arm to lift him back up as well.</p><p>“It looks like someone had a pretty big grudge against him,” he said.</p><p>“Poor old guy,” Trucy said behind them. “I know he was kind of grumpy and weird, but he didn’t deserve to die for it!”</p><p>Luke brushed the snow off his already-damp coat while Phoenix continued stroking his stubbly chin.</p><p>“No murder weapon, no distinguishable footprints, no way of pinpointing the time of death…”</p><p>He sighed and turned to glare up at the mountain that towered over their heads.</p><p>“This is going to be rough as it is and that guy up there is <em> still going!</em>” he almost shouted.</p><p>Trucy followed his gaze up to the shadowed summit.</p><p>“How can he even stand to be up there?” she asked. “It’s freezing down here! How cold is it way up at the top?”</p><p>Way up at the top… hmm…</p><p>“Is it possible he could’ve seen something?” asked Luke.</p><p>Phoenix squinted up at the dark mountaintop.</p><p>“No,” he said. “That far up, I doubt it. Who knows how tiny we all look from up there?”</p><p>Luke cupped his chin. It was odd how doing that seemed to help him think.</p><p>Yes, it was very unlikely that the Minstrel had seen anything. Even if he had, none of them had any idea how to get up there besides a horrifying set of stairs that led up the slope into pitch blackness that not a single one of them had the guts or stupidity to try climbing.</p><p>Yet it seemed like there had to be <em> some </em> way up the mountain, because how else would that Minstrel get up there to play his violin?</p><p>If there really was somebody with a bird’s eye view of the crime scene-</p><p>Hang on.</p><p>Bird’s eye?</p><p>“Hmm…” Luke cast his eyes around the area, searching for somewhere a not-so-human observer could be found.</p><p>There.</p><p>Beside the steps that led up the slope was a tree, stripped bare in the winter, barely visible in the shadows cast by the Kings’ Arms.</p><p>Luke allowed himself another shiver in the cold and started jogging over to where it stood.</p><p>“Luke?” he heard Phoenix say as he moved away.</p><p>“Luke, where are you going?” asked Trucy.</p><p>Instead of giving a reply he knew neither of them would properly understand, Luke slowed to a walk as he approached the tree. As he had hoped, he could just about make out a squat shape sitting up in the branches near the top of the empty canopy. A sort of upside-down cone with a blunt, rounded top, two small spikes sticking up like rabbit’s ears that fidgeted a little as Luke drew closer.</p><p>Hopefully no other villagers came along right now. They were going to think he was insane.</p><p>Nevertheless, he cupped his hands around his mouth.</p><p>“Hello up there!” he called.</p><p>Whatever the bird was at the top of the tree, it didn’t acknowledge his shout.</p><p>Had he not spoken loud enough? Was this one of those birds with terrible hearing?</p><p>“Excuse me?” Luke tried not to yell too loudly, lest he attract untoward attention. “Can you hear me up there?”</p><p>Something at the top of the cone shape shifted – by the looks of those spikes on top, it was turning – and then, all of a sudden, Luke was being stared at by a pair of gigantic yellow eyes that glowed down at him in the darkness.</p><p>“Young man,” their owner said in a voice only he could understand, “I can hear a rat scampering across the pavement on the far side of this village. Do you honestly believe I wouldn’t notice your screeching?”</p><p>“Oh, um…” Luke held himself back from tugging on his scarf on a night as cold as this. “Sorry. Do you think you could come down so I don’t have to shout?”</p><p>“If it means being subjected to that grating adolescent voice of yours,” said the bird, “then no, I don’t think I could.”</p><p>Even though he knew it probably wouldn’t help, Luke cleared his throat.</p><p>“Well, I’m afraid I can’t do much about the way my voice sounds,” he said, “but there’s something very important that I need to talk to you about.”</p><p>Before tonight, he had never known it was possible for a bird to <em> scoff</em>.</p><p>“So important as to interrupt my hunting, it would seem,” it sniped at him.</p><p>“Hunting?” Again Luke tried not to shout. “All you’re doing is sitting on a branch! Please, this is a matter of life and death! A friend of mine could go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit unless you tell me what you know!”</p><p>He tried to tighten his coat against a breeze that brushed across his cheeks as the yellow eyes turned away from him.</p><p>But before his heart had a chance to sink, a wide pair of wings extended and the bird flapped down to sit on a far lower branch and more effectively glare right into Luke’s face. Now that it was closer, he could see that it was an owl. An owl with ears that ironically stuck up like a rabbit’s.</p><p>“What is this ridiculous whiff-whaff you’re spitting?” he demanded.</p><p>“Uh, Luke?” Phoenix called from back at the crime scene’s epicentre. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“I think I found us a witness!” Luke replied, and turned back to the owl. “I’m Luke Triton, sir. Could you please tell me your name?”</p><p>The owl took a moment to preen his wing and looked back up at Luke the moment he was done.</p><p>“I am none other than Sir Edgar Shelley dePhillips IV,” he declared, “Backbranch MP of the Attic of Lords. If all you want is to ask me my opinions on whatever utter nonsense the Attic of Commons has decided they’re going to push forth when they next convene, I hereby refer you to my secretary, wherever she may be in the mountains tonight.”</p><p>“Um…” The idea of an owl having a <em> secretary </em> was almost enough to make Luke spin on his heel and walk away. “No, sir. I’m not here to talk to you about parliament affairs. I need to ask you what you saw in this area tonight.”</p><p>Sir Edgar’s bulging eyes blinked slowly and deliberately.</p><p>“I assume you refer to the poor gentleman lying shuffled off the mortal coil not fifty feet from where you stand?” he asked.</p><p>“I wouldn’t quite have put it like that,” said Luke, “but yes. I need to know if…”</p><p>He trailed off.</p><p>From the scene he had just been talking about, he heard talking. Loud, heated talking. One of the voices was definitely that of Phoenix. The other… that was Officer Poe, wasn’t it? They were speaking too fast for him to make out what they were saying.</p><p>A tall hat on a short figure appeared from around the side of the Kings’ Arms.</p><p>“Trucy?” said Luke. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“It’s Officer Poe,” Trucy explained as she approached. “He says we need to clear out because we’ve had an hour to investigate, but we know he said we had two hours and Daddy’s trying to get him to give us more time.”</p><p>Luke couldn’t hold back a sigh. This was by far the most <em> annoying </em> investigation he’d ever been involved in.</p><p>“What is it with this guy and messing up the time he’s giving us?” he wondered aloud.</p><p>“I don’t know.” Trucy sighed and crossed her arms. “Not sure if I want to know.”</p><p>She looked from Luke to the owl that sat on the branch in front of him, staring down at her with what were probably the biggest and most yellow eyes she had ever seen in her entire life.</p><p>“What are you doing?” she asked Luke.</p><p>“Young lady, are you an acquaintance of this young man?” asked Sir Edgar, and then his head turned every which way. “Do tell him to clear off! I’m searching for a water vole to enjoy for my luncheon and he’s distracting me from my hunt!”</p><p>All Trucy did was frown.</p><p>“…was that owl, um…” She spoke slowly and in utter bafflement. “…was it hooting at me?”</p><p>Luke decided not to tell her how rude Sir Edgar had been towards her.</p><p>“…he says hello,” he lied.</p><p>“Huh?” Trucy’s eyes widened in amazement. “You can understand him?!”</p><p>“Didn’t I tell you I can speak to animals?” asked Luke. “I could’ve sworn I did!”</p><p>“What?!” cried Trucy. “You can- huh?! How does <em> that </em> work?”</p><p>“I’m not entirely sure and it would take a while to explain,” Luke hurriedly replied, “but what matters is that Sir Edgar here might have seen something!”</p><p>Now it was Trucy who did nothing but blink at him and pull her cloak tighter around her shoulders.</p><p>“I don’t know if you’re being legit or not,” she said, “but we need all the help we can get at this point. Don’t tell Daddy I know that.”</p><p>Luke suddenly found himself hoping she had been honest about not knowing what he and her father had been arguing about earlier.</p><p>He tried to put that out of his mind and looked back at his prospective witness.</p><p>“You heard her, Sir Edgar,” he said. “We need to know what happened to the man you mentioned. His death wasn’t from natural causes and we need to know who’s responsible for that.”</p><p>Sir Edgar shuffled from side to side on his talons.</p><p>“That all depends, young man,” he sternly responded. “Shall I be required to testify in a court of law?”</p><p>For what had to be the third or fourth time that evening, Luke’s blood ran cold, but this time it was accompanied by images of fire, screaming and the worst possible lute music flooding through his mind.</p><p>“…um…” He tried to beat them back into the recesses of his memories. “…I don’t know how happy Mr Wright would be about that.”</p><p>“What wouldn’t Daddy be happy about?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Sir Edgar here wants to know if he’ll have to testify,” Luke explained.</p><p>“Oh my gosh,” Trucy gasped. “First two parrots and then an owl? How is it Daddy has to keep cross-examining birds?!”</p><p>Two parrots? It had already been strange enough seeing him do that once, but the idea that Phoenix had brought a <em> second </em> parrot onto the witness stand was almost too incredible for Luke to comprehend.</p><p>“I want to know about that <em> other </em> parrot…” Luke said mostly to himself, but shook himself back into the waking world. “Never mind. Sir Edgar, if we do call you as a witness-”</p><p>“Absolutely not!” the owl snapped. “If you truly wish for my words to be heard in a court of law, I shall ask that you speak with my barrister!”</p><p>Thank goodness Trucy was unable to hear anything besides enraged twittering, Luke considered.</p><p>“…owls are a lot more organised than I thought…” he said to himself as Sir Edgar started preening.</p><p>No matter. They had more important things to talk about.</p><p>“Sir Edgar, with all due respect,” he said to the owl, “your barrister isn’t the one sitting on a branch right next to a crime scene. If you’re hunting tonight, then you must have seen what happened. Who put Mr Oldfart in the middle of the street and when?”</p><p>Sir Edgar looked up from his feathers.</p><p>“I beg your pardon?” he hooted. “Apologies, I was preening.”</p><p>Luke bit back the anger that was brimming in his throat. Did owls just have no concept of urgency?</p><p>“Did you see who left our victim in the middle of the street,” he said through gritted teeth, “and do you remember when it was?”</p><p>“I wonder if I could convince Daddy to take a case at a peacock farm?” Trucy pondered.</p><p>“If you wish to borrow some of my valuable time,” said Sir Edgar, “you will have to provide me with compensation. The Attic of Lords convenes at midnight tonight and I steadfastly refuse to be late, in spite of the fact that I am truly quite hungry! I should have hunted down a full nest of rats by now!”</p><p>If this kept up, Luke was going to grind his teeth down to the pulp.</p><p>“Let me put this as simply as possible,” he hissed. “Did you see anything on the street tonight?”</p><p>The owl once again shuffled on his perch.</p><p>“I try not to concern myself with the matters of you humans,” he said airily, “but if you must know, I do recall seeing a person with quite a tall and angular head haunting around the building near this tree of mine.”</p><p>“That must have been the Professor,” Luke concluded. “Did you see anyone else before that?”</p><p>“If you speak of the person who deposited that dark, lumpy sack you call a man in the middle of the road,” said Sir Edgar, “then I do recall them scampering off into the snow once they had accomplished that deed. Their face was quite thoroughly obscured, but I seem to remember them bearing the tall, slender frame often found among your species’ females.”</p><p>Females?</p><p>“A woman?” Luke asked for clarification, biting back the comment he wanted to make about owls having no concept of respect for the dead.</p><p>“Huh?” Trucy tugged on Luke’s sleeve. “What did he say?”</p><p>“He says Mr Oldfart was dumped here by a woman!” Luke told her.</p><p>“A lead!” cried Trucy, pumping her fists in the air. “Yes!”</p><p>“Sir Edgar, can you tell me anything else about them?” Luke asked desperately. “What was she wearing? What colour was her hair?”</p><p>“Watch your tone, young man,” the owl sternly replied. “I only <em> suggested </em> that this person was what you call a ‘woman’. I was far less concerned with them than I was about whether I could possibly take a morsel from that pile of fresh meat she dumped on the ground.”</p><p>No, that settled it. Owls most certainly did <em> not </em> have any concept of respect for the dead.</p><p>Luke pressed his hands into his pockets to hide his fists clenching in frustration.</p><p>“It’s possible you may be called as a witness tomorrow,” he told Sir Edgar. “Can you tell us where we could find you if you are?”</p><p>The owl gave him another slow blink.</p><p>“I make my home in the building I have heard designated the Kings’ Arms,” he replied, “and if you do decide you wish for my company, you will again find that I require compensation. And don’t you dare try to foist any of those silly little metal discs or scraps of paper off on me.”</p><p>“Okay then,” said Luke. “I’ll see if Ms Hill has any mouse traps she would let me use. Thank you for your time, Sir Edgar.”</p><p>“I would say that it’s my pleasure,” Sir Edgar spat, “but I must away to the convening of the Attic of Lords before Sir Allen tries to steal my beam again. Good day, young man.”</p><p>And with that, he flew away into the night, brushing so close to Luke’s head as he passed that he almost knocked the cap clear off the poor boy’s head.</p><p>“What did he tell you?” asked Trucy. “What did he say?”</p><p>“Not much,” Luke replied. “I know a gentleman isn’t supposed to badmouth others, but he was far too pompous to give me very much information.”</p><p>He looked back down the footsteps he had left in the snow to the corner of the Kings’ Arms. He couldn’t hear any arguing anymore. Hopefully that didn’t mean Phoenix had been arrested for breach of the peace.</p><p>“The most I found out was that the person who dumped Mr Oldfart’s body in the street had a slender, feminine figure,” he explained. “I didn’t find out when, but it might have been around the same time the Professor was looking around out here.”</p><p>“You said you were going to get him to testify, right?” asked Trucy. “Will he agree to it?”</p><p>“I don’t think we have any choice but to wait and see,” Luke sighed.</p><p>The crunching of snow underfoot signalled to him that someone was approaching, and his unasked question was answered by the sight of that vivid cyan hat.</p><p>“I sure hope you two had more luck than I did,” said its wearer.</p><p>“What’s happened, Mr Wright?” asked Luke. “Are we being cleared out?”</p><p>“Under threat of joining the Professor in the cells,” said Phoenix, “we’re to disband our investigation pending the results of Dr Wallace’s autopsy, which probably won’t be done until tomorrow. In other words, investigation over.”</p><p>“What?!” Luke could only just contain his horror.</p><p>“But we barely found anything!” Trucy pointed out.</p><p>“I’m not so sure about that,” said Phoenix. “We deduced that our victim was killed elsewhere and dumped, supposedly prior to the Professor stumbling upon the scene, and that the murder weapon was something thin and sharp, akin to a knitting needle.”</p><p>He peered back over his shoulder with a hand on his stubbly chin.</p><p>“Once we get Dr Wallace’s report,” he continued, “we should be able to roughly determine the murderer’s height from the angle of attack and how many of them there were from his photos. Luke, did you find the witness you were looking for?”</p><p>“If I provide him with some mice to eat, then maybe,” said Luke, even though the sound of that made his stomach churn again. “It’s awful, but I hope Ms Hill uses lethal traps. I don’t want to hear any mice pleading for their lives as I feed them to a hungry owl…”</p><p>Thankfully, before he could be plunged into any more horrific mental images, he was hit in the side with a hug from Trucy. He gratefully patted on top of her hat in return.</p><p>“Don’t take this the wrong way,” said Phoenix with a rub of his eyes, “but I’m pretty glad we’re being called off. I don’t know how much longer I could stay awake.”</p><p>Even though his face was scarcely visible in the dim light, Luke could see the worry sparkling in his eyes.</p><p>“Will you be okay going back to that cottage by yourself?” he asked. “It’s likely Ms Hill has a room free you could use.”</p><p>“It’s a kind offer,” Luke replied, “but as long as I try to keep my mind off the people I’m potentially walking through, I’ll be fine.”</p><p>He paused to consider that walking <em> through </em>a person was something he’d never really had to worry about before.</p><p>“You don’t have much to worry about,” Phoenix reassured him. “There are way more over here than back towards your place. I think they like the music.”</p><p>It wasn’t until he mentioned it that Luke remembered, and now that he’d remembered, he could suddenly hear that violin again. The echo still made it hard to pin down, but it was certainly louder over here than it had been from near the police station.</p><p>He looked up at the steep mountain, which seemed even more looming and frightening now that he was so close to it.</p><p>It took him a moment or two to recognise the song this Minstrel was playing.</p><p>“Sounds like he’s worked his way through to The Point of No Return,” he said. “I wonder what he’s going to play once he gets to the end of that soundtrack?”</p><p>“You think he takes requests?” Phoenix asked with another wry smile. “I feel like a violin rendition of the Steel Samurai theme would be pretty awesome.”</p><p>Luke didn’t have a chance to ask what the ‘Steel Samurai’ was before Trucy yawned, wide and loud.</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right,” Phoenix said in response, and he took her hand to pull her away. “Much as I want to risk getting arrested, we’d better call it a night. We won’t do the Professor any good if we fall asleep in the middle of his trial.”</p><p>An overwhelming sense of resignation washed over Luke as he watched them move away towards the pub.</p><p>“I understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Mr Wright. Goodnight, Trucy.”</p><p>Trucy yawned again.</p><p>“Night, Luke,” she sleepily replied.</p><p>Phoenix didn’t say anything. Just rounded the corner with her and disappeared.</p><p>Luke pressed his hands into his pockets and ran back to the rental cottage, only pausing to bid goodnight to Dr Wallace and Officer Poe as he passed them beside Mr Oldfart’s body.</p><p>He had a sickening feeling that tomorrow was going to be even more exhausting than today.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Phoenix knew his pacing was probably annoying – he’d paced enough to wear through the snow and to the hardened dirt underneath – but he didn’t care.</p><p>It was overcast again. The clouds today were a deeper shade of grey, flowing and dimpled like a great silver duvet laid over the world, and the early morning breeze bit at his cheeks and would probably have tried to tear his ears to shreds were it not for his hat.</p><p>He cast a glance sideways at Trucy, to whom he’d awoken before sunrise fully dressed and watching out the window, and Luke, who had met them here at the hall’s entrance with his hair a mess and eyes swollen and bloodshot.</p><p>Whether or not he’d been crying was something Phoenix didn’t have the courage to ask.</p><p>The crunching of snow alerted him to someone – maybe two someones – approaching up the slope nearby.</p><p>It turned out to be Officer Poe, dragging their client by the arm, but dropping him like filth before heading into the hall.</p><p>“Professor!” Luke dashed forward to hug his mentor. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“I’m quite alright, my boy,” the Professor replied with a tip of his hat. “See? They even let me have my hat back.”</p><p>“Has anyone ever told you that you look super small without it?” Phoenix couldn’t help but ask.</p><p>“They don’t have to, Mr Wright,” Layton replied with a frown. “I can see it quite well for myself.”</p><p>He pressed himself out of Luke’s arms and pulled his hat down to hide his shadow-ringed eyes.</p><p>“Did you sleep okay, Professor?” Trucy asked as Luke yawned. “You look almost as tired as we are!”</p><p>“Police cell beds aren’t what I would call comfortable,” the Professor replied as the yawn spread to Trucy, “but the building was heated and that’s all I could ask for. What did you discover last night? Rather, how does our case look?”</p><p>Phoenix almost didn’t hear that last part because of the yawn that had infected him.</p><p>“Let’s just say,” he said once it had passed, “I’ve pulled off wins with less.”</p><p>Layton somehow proved immune to the spread of yawning.</p><p>“Right,” he said, his voice somewhere between worried and irritated.</p><p>“Mr Wright figured out that Mr Oldfart didn’t die where we found him,” Luke explained. “His body didn’t have any snow on it and there was no blood at the scene aside from on his neck. Not only that, but I spoke to a witness who says they saw a person with a thin feminine figure dumping him in the middle of the street.”</p><p>“A witness, you say?” Layton smiled down at his apprentice. “Will I have the privilege of meeting this witness during today’s proceedings?”</p><p>Luke’s expression, however, was more of a grimace than a smile.</p><p>“…hopefully,” he responded.</p><p>The Professor turned his attention to his lead defence.</p><p>“Mr Wright, I get the impression that this witness wasn’t human,” he commented.</p><p>“Don’t ask me,” Phoenix replied. “I was too busy arguing with that jerk cop to know whether they were a person or not.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t badmouth him too severely, Mr Wright.” Layton’s smile slipped away as he spoke. “Officer Poe boasted to me quite proudly about the testimony he plans to offer to the court today. He promised to see me burn at the stake, just like the ‘magic people’ in the book he was reading.”</p><p>His frown deepened as he cupped his chin in thought.</p><p>“Which was odd,” he added, “because I could have sworn he was reading science fiction.”</p><p>Phoenix wished that he could have the pleasure of grimacing, but it didn’t do to cringe in front of one’s client.</p><p>“So he’s testifying, is he?” he said instead. “Maybe we’ll finally get a chance to find out what his deal is.”</p><p>“Are you going to be alright, Daddy?” asked Trucy.</p><p>When Phoenix looked down at her, she was more worried than he had ever seen in his whole life, and who could blame her? With the spectacle he’d put on in court yesterday and how the Professor and Luke had needed to step up and cover for him, of course she was going to be afraid that he’d do it again.</p><p>He looked up at Layton and Luke, who were watching him with equal levels of concern. No doubt they were thinking exactly the same thing that he was.</p><p>But it wouldn’t happen. It <em> couldn’t </em>happen.</p><p>As far as he knew, there were no forged documents that he had to present.</p><p>Nothing falsified that somebody had been trying to pass off as the real deal. He wouldn’t have to put up with any of that.</p><p>He wouldn’t have to humiliate himself again.</p><p>He wouldn’t have to destroy himself.<em> Again. </em></p><p>It was going to be fine.</p><p>He was going to be <em> fine</em>.</p><p>“I’m about to enter a trial I only had a couple of hours’ prep time for,” he said, “defending a friend accused of murder with only a child and a teenager by my side to offer assistance, with pretty much every other person in the court calling for our heads on spikes…”</p><p>He blew out a long, exhausted breath that curled into mist in front of his face.</p><p>“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p>The Professor managed another smile. It seemed like he had a better sense of humour than Phoenix had ever given him credit for.</p><p>“At least you appear confident,” the gentleman remarked.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Professor,” said Trucy. “I have an idea for something we can do if things start going badly.”</p><p>“Do you?” asked Phoenix, and he could swear he felt his heart rate rising. “Would you mind sharing what this idea is?”</p><p>“Patience, Daddy!” Trucy chided, tapping the side of her nose.</p><p>“You’re not exactly helping me feel better about it-”</p><p>Phoenix cut himself off before he could finish snapping at his daughter and took a deep breath, hoping against hope that it would do something, <em> anything </em>to calm his nerves.</p><p>“…okay…” he muttered. “…okay…”</p><p>“Mr Wright?” asked Luke. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”</p><p>He didn’t have the heart to look the kid in the eye.</p><p>“I understand if you still suspect me, Mr Wright,” said Layton “If you only had an hour or so to investigate, I doubt you turned up a great deal of evidence with which to clear my name.”</p><p>“I never said I think you’re guilty, Professor,” Phoenix pointed out again. “I said I <em> don’t know</em>. With what we found last night, I still don’t know. I have a feeling the things Dr Wallace found are going to turn out to be pretty vital.”</p><p>He ran his fingers over his face. If he could just have had a bit more <em> sleep</em>…</p><p>“To be honest,” he sighed, “it’s hard to lay any suspicion on <em> anyone </em> when we don’t even have a murder weapon or concrete time of death.”</p><p>“But Daddy, that’s what you did all the time!” cried Trucy. “You went into a trial knowing nothing and then by the end, you knew everything! You can do it, Dad! I don’t care if you don’t believe in yourself anymore! <em> I </em> believe in you!”</p><p>She had her fists clenched in determination in spite of the heavy bags around her eyes.</p><p>“I believe in you too, Mr Wright,” Luke spoke up. “It’s true your standoffish behaviour is aggravating, but I <em> know </em> you’re still a good person deep down!”</p><p>Phoenix bit back the comment he wanted to make about how Luke obviously didn’t know him very well.</p><p>“As do I,” said Layton with that gentle smile he almost always had. “I have faith in your skills, Mr Wright. I regret that this ever occurred to begin with, but now that I’m in this situation, I couldn’t think of a better person I could trust to help me out of it.”</p><p>They really did believe this, didn’t they?</p><p>All of them. They trusted him. Believed in him. Thought he could do it. Thought that somehow, by some miracle, he was going to be able to succeed.</p><p>That was only going to make the inevitable failure more devastating, wasn’t it?</p><p>Phoenix almost wanted to tell them to go away. Leave it to Luke to deal with this. The more they believed in him now, the more they would hate him when he crashed and burned.</p><p>But if he told them now, would that bring that hatred forward or just leave it for after the trial he was bound to end up losing?</p><p>There was no way he could tell them. No way he could make them understand why he didn’t want them to put their trust in a failure like him.</p><p>No way he could phrase it for them to understand.</p><p>“…don’t…” was all he managed.</p><p>Then there was a knock on the open door nearby.</p><p>“Oi,” said Jack, who looked significantly angrier at them than she had yesterday morning. “We’re ready.”</p><p>Phoenix sighed and rubbed his face again.</p><p>“In we go, I guess,” he said, and he took Trucy’s hand to lead her into the courtroom.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Colour Out of Snow part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The judge’s so-called gavel slamming on his lectern rang through Phoenix’s head like an explosion, and was equally as effective at silencing the gallery.</p><p>“Court is now in session for the trial of Mr Hershel Layton,” he declared.</p><p>Michaela stood behind her bench with that same soft smile she had worn almost exclusively the previous day.</p><p>“The prosecution is fully prepared and waiting, Uncle Angus,” she said happily.</p><p>A prickle crept up the back of Phoenix’s neck. A sensation he’d found was usually reserved for when somebody was watching him with as much intensity as they could muster.</p><p>He cast a glance at the gallery.</p><p>It only took him a moment to notice Angela’s honey-blonde hair amidst the dark hats and scarves worn by the rest of the villagers. Yes, it was her steely gaze that was focused on him, and she didn’t seem to care that she’d been noticed, simply offering him another friendly smile.</p><p>He swallowed hard and forced his eyes away from the watchers eyeing him with noticeable suspicion.</p><p>“Defence is as ready as it can be, Your Honour,” he told the judge.</p><p>Said judge frowned past him at the rest of the villager’s population.</p><p>“I hereby request that during the process of this trial,” he said, “there be no attempted interference from the gallery. I understand that the victim in this case was a friend to all of us, but to intervene in a court of law shall be viewed as an act of contempt of court and result in immediate arrest.”</p><p>In spite of his obvious anger, Phoenix got a sudden sense of pain as the old man turned to look down at him. He couldn’t be surprised. From what the ex-lawyer could tell, this was the judge’s friend they were going to be talking about here.</p><p>“Mr Wright,” he said, “I understand that you, your co-counsels and the defendant are on relatively friendly terms with one another?”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t bother looking to his assistants for help with this one. He simply responded with a shrug.</p><p>“As far as I know,” he replied.</p><p>“I do hope this isn’t going to cause any conflicts of interest,” said the judge. “If I notice your emotions overwhelming your logic, I will not hesitate to dismiss your defence. That applies to all three of you. Have I made myself clear?”</p><p>Phoenix swallowed, and hoped that nobody – not his co-counsels, not the prosecution and <em> definitely </em> not the prosecution’s mother – noticed it.</p><p>“Crystal clear, Your Honour,” he said firmly, and looked sideways at his pair of helpers. “Luke, did you get that?”</p><p>Unsurprisingly, Luke looked almost as uncomfortable as his defence leader. The poor kid had his eyes downcast and shoulders hunched as though he could start crying any moment.</p><p>“Yes sir,” he said softly, fiddling with his coat’s toggles again.</p><p>“Wow,” Trucy said quietly, peering up at Luke in curiosity. “When did we get back to school?”</p><p>“Now then, Michaela dear,” the judge continued without further ado, “would you be so kind as to provide the court with an opening statement?”</p><p>Michaela replied with a solemn nod.</p><p>“Absolutely,” she said, her smile faltering for the briefest of moments. “Ladies, gentlemen and those who are yet to make up your mind, Fatargan has borne witness to a crime far more heinous and horrific than any that we have witnessed within our village’s history, for in the evening hours of yesterday, as the Minstrel regaled us with his wondrous performance, one of our own was cruelly and savagely robbed of his life.”</p><p>Even though she was still smiling and seemed to have her eyes closed, Phoenix could swear she was glaring directly at his face.</p><p>“A kind man who had spent decades wishing for nothing but to provide us with the freshest of eggs,” she continued, “Wrenkley Oldfart was slain by a stranger to our village, who even now sits in this very room, and who knows which of us he would have next led to the slaughter were he not apprehended by our brave police force?”</p><p>She threw out her arm, almost a performative gesture, in the defence bench’s direction.</p><p>“Good people of Fatargan,” she called dramatically, “I beg of you; let us not allow this fiend to walk free for one moment longer!”</p><p>Only one word came to Phoenix’s mind as the gallery stirred with quiet chatter:</p><p>“Yikes.”</p><p>“Oh man,” muttered Trucy, “she’s good, huh?”</p><p>“How can she say such terrible things about the Professor?” Luke said in dismay, still twisting a coat toggle around. “I can’t believe I thought she was pretty...”</p><p>“Sorry, Luke.” Phoenix gave him what he hoped was a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Odds are you’ll get your heart broken plenty more times before you find a girl who likes you back.”</p><p>He turned back to look at the judge, who was slowly nodding in the kind of agreement that made Phoenix’s heart sink.</p><p>“Truly a stirring statement, Ms Skellig.” He was clutching that little toffee hammer to his chest. “Were I a less stoic fellow, it would have brought tears to my eyes.”</p><p>He rested his hammer back on his lectern.</p><p>“Would you be so kind as to call your first witness?” he asked.</p><p>“It would be my absolute pleasure, Your Honour,” said Michaela, “so allow me to welcome our new friend, Dr Bill Wallace, to the witness stand.”</p><p>“What?” Luke whispered hoarsely. “Dr Wallace is testifying for the prosecution?!”</p><p>“I’d say he’s on neutral territory right now,” Phoenix replied. “Remember when the Professor testified on the train? He was just stating the facts of the case to the court. I don’t think he’s on any specific side right now.”</p><p>“So we can turn him over to our side!” Trucy cheered, struggling to keep her voice down. “Right, Daddy?”</p><p>“It’s possible, sweetie,” said Phoenix. “We’ll see.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He stood at the witness stand clutching a heavy-looking black leather bag under one arm, frowning straight ahead like he had just been told that someone he hated had won a medal.</p><p>“You are well known to us all by now, my good man,” Michaela said to him, “but would you be so kind as to provide your name and profession to the court?”</p><p>He sighed as though this was the most exhausting thing he could possibly have been asked to do.</p><p>“Bill Wallace,” he said flatly. “Medi- sorry. Doctor.”</p><p>“Our apologies to you for your harsh treatment yesterday, Dr Wallace,” said the judge. “I hope you’re prepared to forgive us for our untoward behaviour.”</p><p>Dr Wallace responded with a stiff nod.</p><p>“No hard feelings, Your Honour,” he replied, still completely flat.</p><p>Phoenix tried to put the doctor’s deadpan attitude out of his mind.</p><p>“Wow,” he said, mostly to himself. “Who’d have thought a judge could be so polite to an ex-defendant?”</p><p>“It delights me to welcome you back to our courtroom in such a manner that allows you to inform and assist us, Dr Wallace,” Michaela said to her witness, “rather than being forced to sit back and allow yourself to be unfairly condemned. Can you please provide us with an outline of the incident?”</p><p>“Of course,” said Dr Wallace.</p><p>He slammed his bag down onto the ‘stand’ in front of him so hard that it shuddered under the weight. Good god, how heavy was that thing? What the heck did he carry in it?!</p><p>“The victim of the case is Mr Wrenkley Oldfart, aged 72,” the doctor stated, apparently unbothered by the neutron star’s worth of baggage he had just deposited in full view of the court. “The cause of death was severe haemorrhaging, blood loss in layman’s terms, from a stab wound to the neck. Width, depth and shape of that wound suggests a long, thin and sharp object was the murder weapon.”</p><p>He popped his bag open and pulled out a pair of thin folders.</p><p>“Time of death was difficult to determine due to the cold environment,” he went on, “but is estimated to have been between 7pm and 9:30pm. I’ve prepared a post-mortem report for the defence and prosecution to peruse at their leisure.”</p><p>“I understand,” said the judge as Dr Wallace approached the defence bench. “The court accepts it into evidence.”</p><p>As Luke pulled the folder closer for a look at its contents, Phoenix whipped out his journal and flipped it to the next blank page. He passed the details he’d just been told around and around in his head and jotted them down as quickly as he could, cringing at the sight of his own handwriting as he scribbled:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mr Oldfart’s Autopsy Report – Cause of death: blood loss from being stabbed in the neck with a long, thin object. Time of death: 7-9:30pm </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He resisted the urge to slam his journal down in triumph as he finished writing right at the point of Dr Wallace returning to the stand.</p><p>All this writing was building up a distractingly uncomfortable callous on the inside of his hand…</p><p>“When I first arrived at the scene,” Dr Wallace added, “I decided to take some photographs to preserve the crime scene as I found it. With your permission, sir, I’d like to submit those as well.”</p><p>“Very well,” said the judge as Luke nudged the autopsy report aside. “The court accepts your photos into evidence.”</p><p>While his co-counsel lined up the aforementioned photos for him to see, Phoenix noted down as many details as he could about what they showed:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Crime Scene Photos - #1 gives an overall view of the crime scene; #2 is a close-up of the fatal wound </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He cast another glance down at the photos and noticed that the snow was practically glowing white, Mr Oldfart’s body lit and shadowed as though under a spotlight. The close-up was the same, bright white light and harsh shadows, the blood on the old man’s neck, lips and chin shining almost neon under the brilliant glow.</p><p>A smudge was visible in that neon blood, shaped like a pair of fingers pressed together, on the papery, wrinkled skin of Mr Oldfart’s neck.</p><p>“I say,” said the judge, “those photos are rather well lit, aren’t they?”</p><p>Phoenix looked up to ask how he could see them and noticed Michaela holding them up for her Uncle Angus to get a good look.</p><p>“Even with the streetlights, Your Honour,” said Dr Wallace, “it was a very dark night. I used the flash on my camera to make sure no details could be left out.”</p><p>Having finished writing, Phoenix pushed the photos back under the autopsy report and hoped against hope that they wouldn’t have to be shown again during the trial.</p><p>“Luke, Trucy, are you alright?” he asked.</p><p>“I’m fine, Daddy,” Trucy replied. “I promise.”</p><p>Luke, on the other hand, was grimacing in disgust.</p><p>“Is it bad that I’m becoming numb to this?” he squeaked.</p><p>Phoenix nudged the report up for another look.</p><p>Such brightly shining snow… that shimmering blood…</p><p>“Something about these photos is bothering me,” he told his assistants, keeping his voice low so that nobody else could hear. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something seems off.”</p><p>He quickly flipped the folder closed so that neither of his young co-counsels would be tempted to take a peek.</p><p>“Did the investigation turn up any murder weapon?” asked the judge.</p><p>Dr Wallace merely shrugged.</p><p>“Haven’t the foggiest,” he said. “My focus was the post-mortem and that took me all bloody night. I didn’t look at the scene itself. That was Mr Wright’s job.”</p><p>He nodded towards the defence bench. Phoenix cringed. There was already enough attention directed his way as it was.</p><p>Why was he even doing this?!</p><p>“I see,” said the judge. “Mr Wright, would <em> you </em> be interested in telling us what you found out?”</p><p>Phoenix slipped one hand into his pocket so that nobody could see him clenching his fist.</p><p>“Much as I want to, I’m not the one testifying right now,” he pointed out. “You told me to avoid a conflict of interest, so I’m not going to put myself in a position that’s basically just me talking with my co-counsel. They were investigating with me, after all.”</p><p>He glanced sideways at Luke, who shrank down into his coat as if that would somehow make him invisible. Trucy, meanwhile, gave Phoenix a look so pointed that he could have pricked his finger on it.</p><p>“Yes, I suppose that makes sense,” the judge said with a nod, and he looked back up at the witness stand. “Very well, Dr Wallace. Could you please tell us everything you’ve been able to learn about this case from your post-mortem assessment?”</p><p>Dr Wallace just gave him a nod.</p><p>Phoenix fumbled with his journal’s pages in search of the next blank one and gripped his pencil harder than he probably should have to hide how his fingers were shaking.</p><p>“First witness testimony of the morning,” Luke sighed beside him. “Are you up to this, Mr Wright?”</p><p>Mr Wright scrawled ‘Autopsy Findings’ at the top of his page.</p><p>“I don’t really have a lot of choice,” he replied.</p><p>He swallowed so hard that it almost made his throat hurt and gritted his teeth.</p><p>He had a feeling he was in for a <em> lot </em> of writing today.</p><p>Dr Wallace cleared his throat.</p><p>“As I said,” he began, “the time of death was difficult to determine, but I estimate it to have been at some point during the evening. Given the depth and location of the wound, he most likely took around five minutes to bleed out. Were I to hazard a guess as to the murder weapon's nature, I would have assumed a knitting needle, but the interior shape of the wound indicated a far sharper implement had been used.”</p><p>He folded his arms and Phoenix found himself impressed. He had never thought it was possible to <em> frown </em>smugly before.</p><p>“Furthermore,” the doctor continued, “it became clear that only a single blow was dealt to take Mr Oldfart's life. This, combined with a lack of fibres, hairs and skin cells elsewhere on his body, under the nails for example, suggests that he was taken by surprise and killed without a struggle.”</p><p>The only sound in the hall, aside from a quiet cough from somewhere in the gallery, was Phoenix’s pencil scrabbling on the paper as he wrote down as much as he could. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if it might be a good idea to sharpen his pencil.</p><p>“I understand,” he heard the judge say. “Poor Wrenkley. I could never have seen this coming. To think he and his wife invited me to lunch only yesterday to apologise for wasting this very court’s time, and now…”</p><p>Movement in the corner of Phoenix’s eye caused him to look up, just in time to see Michaela clutching her hands to her chest in a motion comparable to prayer.</p><p>“May he forever rest in peace in the loving embrace of the Painted King,” she said.</p><p>At the sound of a groan of distaste, Phoenix looked to one side to check that his co-counsel was alright.</p><p>“Hold it together, Luke,” he said, and gave the poor boy a gentle nudge on the arm. “We’ll have plenty of time later to talk about this Painted King’s cult.”</p><p>“At this point,” Luke muttered to him, “I just wonder if we’ll have any time later at all.”</p><p>“If the defence is ready,” the judge spoke up, “Mr Wright, you may begin your cross-examination.”</p><p>Phoenix pulled the provided folder closer to himself and flipped it open in case he needed a reference.</p><p>“Okay,” he breathed. “Here we go.”</p><p>He tapped the eraser end of his pencil on the page, drumming the first statement into his mind.</p><p>Somehow it felt strange that this wasn’t the first time he’d defended in a murder case that had all begun in a snowy environment.</p><p>“This is something I’ve wondered about for quite some time now,” he admitted. “How does a cold environment make determining the time of death more difficult?”</p><p>“Simple,” Dr Wallace said casually. “Lower temperatures prevent the spread of bacteria that cause decay. Hence why morgues and mortuaries use fridges for their, uh, customers. Same principle as refrigerating meat after it's bought but when you aren't ready to cook it yet.”</p><p>Phoenix’s pencil froze halfway through ‘bacteria’.</p><p>“It’s that obvious?” he asked. “I feel like an idiot now!”</p><p>“Never fear, Mr Wright,” Michaela said calmly, “for in a court of law, there is no such thing as a stupid question, as every answer to that question brings us closer to the truth.”</p><p>Phoenix bit back the question he wanted to ask all of a sudden about how many Samurai dogs it would take to cover the surface of the moon.</p><p>“In any case,” Dr Wallace went on, “it’s the rate of that decay that allows us to determine the time of death. For example, if rigor mortis is in effect, we can tell that the time of death was roughly 3-6 hours prior. If the body is limp and yellowed in colour, we know that they've been dead long enough for rigor mortis to have passed. The yellow colour is caused by fat becoming visible below the surface of the skin due to blood-”</p><p>“THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR YOUR INPUT, DOCTOR.” Phoenix interjected as loudly as he could before his stomach had a chance to churn any further.</p><p>Dr Wallace threw him a brief glance of annoyance, then returned to his elaboration with a roll of his eyes.</p><p>“Body temperature is a factor too. A cold environment would naturally cause a body to cool much faster than a temperate one. Not only that, but it's too cold for insects up here, and their stages of development on the corpse help in determining the time as well. Hence why the time of death, as noted in the post-mortem analysis, is so vague.”</p><p>Phoenix shot a look back down at the autopsy in front of him. A two-and-a-half-hour window of opportunity really was rather ambiguous, wasn’t it?</p><p>“There are any number of factors I could mention,” said Dr Wallace, “but for one, that’s not the overall intent of this trial, and for two, the defence’s co-counsel appears rather green.”</p><p>The closing comment caused Phoenix to check on his two assistants, and he noticed that along with Trucy pulling her hat down over her face Layton-style, Luke was burying his own face in the depths of his scarf.</p><p>“Are you kids alright?” Phoenix asked. “This turned out to be a lot more morbid than I’d expected.”</p><p>Trucy stifled a small belch.</p><p>“This place has bathrooms, right?” she asked.</p><p>“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit,” Luke said with a gulp.</p><p>Phoenix didn’t bother hiding his clenched fist this time.</p><p>“Jeez, Doc,” he said to the witness, “you couldn’t have gone easy on us? My daughter’s only ten years old!”</p><p>“It would seem we’ve all learned something from this question,” the judge spoke up before this could devolve into an argument, “whether we wanted to or not. Please continue your cross-examination, Mr Wright, or else we’ll have to have a supply of buckets brought in from the storeroom.”</p><p>Phoenix took a deep breath, trying to ignore the burning of bile in the back of his throat, and nodded to the judge.</p><p>“I’m pretty sure Mr Oldfart’s <em> wife </em> is in the room,” he grumbled to himself.</p><p>He only wrote down a brief summary of the reasons for a time of death to be obscured by cold. There was NO way he wanted to jot down all those details about the decomposition of a human corpse.</p><p>The odds were good that he was never going to want to get involved with a homicide case for the rest of his life, having learned what happened to the human body after the heart stopped beating, but knowing his luck…</p><p>“…what to ask that won’t make us more nauseous,” he wondered aloud to himself.</p><p>He felt rather proud of the assessment he’d made about the body last night, but now he was learning that there was <em> so much more </em> that he could be disgusted by.</p><p>“How deep was the fatal wound?” he asked.</p><p>“Mr Oldfart was a rather thin man with a lot of loose tissue,” Dr Wallace told the court, “but I determined that the wound reached around four inches into his neck. It pierced every vein and artery in its path.”</p><p>Phoenix paused right after he had finished writing the word ‘neck’.</p><p>“So even if somebody were to find him before he died…” he said slowly.</p><p>“Yes,” said Dr Wallace. “I’m afraid the wound was fatal the moment the murder weapon was removed.”</p><p>It was a grisly subject, but much as it turned Phoenix’s stomach, he knew it was possible these details could turn out to be important.</p><p>“Of all possible weapons,” he said, “why did you suspect a knitting needle specifically?”</p><p>“The wound’s shape indicated the implement used was long and thin,” Dr Wallace replied without any hint of hesitation. “Your average knitting needle fits that description to a T.”</p><p>“But knitting needles are really blunt specifically to prevent people from stabbing, cutting or scratching themselves when they’re used,” Luke pointed out. “You’d have to stab a person with a <em> lot </em> of force just to break the skin!”</p><p>“And if they did,” Trucy added to Phoenix’s horror, “the wound would be way deeper, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>Phoenix resisted the urge to pull her down from her chair and tell her to cover her ears.</p><p>“Indeed it would,” said Dr Wallace, without any indication that he cared about how awful all of this was. “The human neck is primarily composed of muscle and soft tissues held up by the spine. The force required to break the skin with a knitting needle would drive said needle straight through to the other side.”</p><p>At the sound of this description, Phoenix found his fingers instinctively wandering up to his neck.</p><p>“This is officially my least favourite cross-examination I’ve ever conducted,” he mumbled to his co-counsels.</p><p>He scanned the gallery to see if Mrs Oldfart was anywhere around and forced himself not to make eye contact with the mayor, who was still watching him with what seemed like amusement.</p><p>“I’ve heard of bad bedside manner being a problem for doctors,” said Luke, “but bad courtroom manner…”</p><p>When Phoenix turned to see if the poor boy was alright, he saw him looking sideways at Trucy, still noticeably green in the face as he did so.</p><p>“Trucy, I hope you’re not listening to this!” he said.</p><p>“Honestly, at this point, it doesn’t really feel all that real,” Trucy said calmly. “It’s more like I’m sitting in a movie than anything else.”</p><p>Well, at least she wasn’t crying or screaming at the sound of these awful things.</p><p>“Whatever keeps the Child Services away, I guess,” Phoenix said with a shrug.</p><p>“Daddy, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone!” Trucy complained.</p><p>“I know, I know, sweetie,” Phoenix said hastily.</p><p>Much as it sickened him, he made as many notes as he could bear about the wound. Surely there was a way he could talk about this without making him nauseous, wasn’t there?</p><p>“Would you be so kind as to speculate for us, Doc?” he asked. “What do you think our murder weapon might actually be?”</p><p>“Objection.”</p><p>Before Dr Wallace got a chance to reply, the court was silenced by Michaela’s soft voice.</p><p>“You have my deepest apologies, Mr Wright,” she said, “but the witness stand is to be reserved for facts and factual evidence, not for wandering minds or for imagination.”</p><p>Phoenix held up a hand to prevent Luke from snapping back and turned to the judge for his response. To his relief, the old man was shaking his head.</p><p>“Overruled,” he said. “My apologies, Michaela dear, but it’s possible this could turn out to be important. I’ve never been one to deny the value of a professional medical opinion, after all.” He gave a small nod to the witness stand. “Go ahead, Dr Wallace.”</p><p>For the first time that day, Michaela frowned. It wasn’t just a brief falter of her smile. She actually honest-to-god <em> frowned </em> at her objection being denied.</p><p>“Wow,” whispered Luke. “The judge shut down the beloved Ms Skellig?”</p><p>“We might actually have a chance at winning this!” Trucy struggled to keep her voice down.</p><p>Dr Wallace returned the judge’s nod in acknowledgement.</p><p>“The fatal wound was <em> very </em> narrow,” he explained. “Not quite as thin as to have come from a sewing or inoculation needle, but thinner than your average knitting needle, which is another reason to dismiss that as a lead.”</p><p>He took a quick look at the inside of his bag as though it somehow contained the murder weapon.</p><p>“My apologies,” he said to the court, “but I’m not quite familiar enough with thin, sharp objects to suggest any possibility concerning the murder weapon’s identity.”</p><p>Phoenix gritted his teeth to avoid expressing his disappointment.</p><p>“That’s fine, Doc,” he lied. “You’ve given us some options to rule out and that’s enough to be helpful.”</p><p>The doctor rolled his eyes. It seemed like he wasn’t buying it.</p><p>“To be honest, part of me wishes I had found a bullet,” he admitted. “At least an extremely small calibre gun would be enough to explain the shape, depth and angle of the fatal wound.”</p><p>With not much else to do, Phoenix scrawled out a quick note about the thinness of the wound.</p><p>“And there was only one fatal blow,” he recalled. “I presume that’s how you could tell only a single blow was dealt?”</p><p>“Yes,” Dr Wallace replied.</p><p>He didn’t even bother looking in the defence’s direction, let alone say anything else.</p><p>Phoenix felt the eyes of the court all turning to his frustrated face.</p><p>“Do you have anything else to offer?” he asked.</p><p>“Why?” asked Dr Wallace. “You summed it up rather nicely.”</p><p>If he kept gritting his teeth like this, he was going to wear them down to nubs.</p><p>“Did I?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>“You did,” Dr Wallace replied.</p><p>“You did, Daddy,” added Trucy.</p><p>“You did,” said the judge.</p><p>“You did,” said Luke.</p><p>“You certainly did,” said Michaela, the smug smirk creeping back onto her face.</p><p>The eyes of the court sure were heavy this morning.</p><p>“…right,” Phoenix groaned, not bothering to hide his annoyance at this situation.</p><p>“If it helps,” said Dr Wallace, “examination was able to confirm that it had, in fact, been a single long, straight object that delivered the killing blow. You can rule out it being a fistful of needles being held in someone’s hand.”</p><p>“I’d already figured that from there being only one wound, thanks,” Phoenix responded flatly, but he made a note of that just in case.</p><p>What next? What could he ask about next?</p><p>If only this testimony could have been just a little bit looser…</p><p>Ah, that would work.</p><p>“Is it common practise to search under the nails during an autopsy?” he asked.</p><p>“Absolutely,” replied Dr Wallace. “There’s always the chance that the victim managed to scratch their attacker while fighting back during the event of their death. However, all I found under Mr Oldfart’s nails was his own blood and shed skin cells. This and a few light, surface-level scratches suggest that he had clutched his own neck as he died.”</p><p>The implications of that last statement slammed into Phoenix like the train he had ridden on the day before yesterday, and his heart somehow sank even more, dragging his hopes of winning this trial with it.</p><p>“…he was trying to save himself,” he muttered.</p><p>He couldn’t help imagining that old man clutching at his skin, trying to stem the blood that streamed from his neck, most likely being watched by whoever had claimed his life as they waited for him to die so that they could abandon his body in the middle of the street for all the village to see…</p><p>“So you didn’t find any other defensive wound?” Luke spoke up. “No cuts or bruises? I know it’s common to raise one’s arms when under attack.”</p><p>Dr Wallace shrugged at the question.</p><p>“It seems our victim was taken utterly by surprise,” he stated. “He went down without any struggle.”</p><p>Only one blow and no resistance had been put up… interesting. Phoenix idly tapped the eraser end of his pencil on his journal’s open page, passing these ideas around in his head as he did so.</p><p>“Does that help, Dad?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“It just might, Trucy-Goosy,” said Phoenix. “It implies that the murderer was someone Mr Oldfart trusted. Someone he didn’t expect to strike at him the way they did.”</p><p>“And that rules out the Professor, doesn’t it?” Luke demanded. “I mean, Mr Oldfart only knew Professor Layton as someone who helped bust his lie wide open, so there wasn’t a lot of reason to trust him, right?”</p><p>“Right,” Phoenix said before Luke had a chance to start shouting. “Yeah, that’s a good point.”</p><p>He held himself back from asking ‘what can we do with it?’ The last thing he wanted was for his pair of assistants to wind up as hopeless as he had felt during the past two years.</p><p>His eyes wandered sideways to the defendant’s chair, where the Professor seemed to catch on that he was being looked out rather quickly and looked up to meet Phoenix’s eyes. It was remarkable how fearless he seemed, sitting there in front of an entire village out for his blood. He even managed to give Phoenix a tip of his hat as if to say ‘good morning’.</p><p>Or perhaps it was ‘good luck’ or maybe even ‘I have faith in you’.</p><p>Either way, it was something Phoenix felt he really didn’t want to hear right now.</p><p>He pressed his journal open on their bench so that he could take another look at his notes.</p><p>“Have you got anything, Daddy?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Maybe,” Phoenix replied. “I can tell there must be <em> something </em> in there for me to dig up. It’s just a matter of getting to it.”</p><p>“Then grab a shovel and get digging!” cried Luke. “We’ve got a trial to win!”</p><p>“I’m on it, I’m on it! Yikes!” It was difficult not to step back in alarm.</p><p>Phoenix turned back to his transcript of Dr Wallace’s initial testimony. He read over it again, going over the statements he’d broken it down into, passing them back and forth in his mind.</p><p>Perhaps there was a question he hadn’t asked yet regarding one of those statements?</p><p>Hmm, so the doctor had discussed how deep the wound was. There were other aspects of the murder that he could ask about, right?</p><p>But what to ask… what to ask…</p><p>He looked over at Layton again, now sitting perfectly still and watching the trial with remarkable patience. Even with his hat having been returned to him, his circumstances in these proceedings still somehow made him seem far smaller than he actually was-</p><p>Phoenix’s finger froze midway through tracing down the testimony notes.</p><p>Smaller, huh?</p><p>“…if that was the case…” he muttered to himself, and then he turned back to the witness stand. “Regarding your second statement, Dr Wallace, there’s another question I’d like to ask.”</p><p>Dr Wallace shrugged.</p><p>“Fire at will, Mr Wright,” he said casually.</p><p>Phoenix took a deep breath. He couldn’t remember ever asking about a detail like this, but as the old saying went, there was a first time for everything.</p><p>“Could you please tell us more about the angle of the wound?” he asked.</p><p>“Gladly,” said Dr Wallace. “The wound entered the neck at a sideways angle, parallel to the shoulders, like so.”</p><p>He held up a forefinger to his neck as though about to demonstrate a throat-slitting motion.</p><p>After another glance at the Professor, Phoenix tried to visualise the crime in his mind. The whole idea of Layton stabbing someone, especially in the neck and especially with anything resembling a knitting needle, was about as absurd as an idea could get, but if he <em> was </em>to attempt such a thing, then the way he would do it…</p><p>“Well,” said Phoenix, “that’s certainly revealing.”</p><p>“How so?” asked the judge.</p><p>“Indeed,” Michaela said, “do be so kind as to elaborate for us, Mr Wright.”</p><p>Phoenix just shrugged.</p><p>“Not much to elaborate on,” he commented, and he held out his hand in Layton’s direction. “The Professor is, as you can see, a man of relatively small stature. I estimate him to be at least a few inches shorter than the late Mr Oldfart.”</p><p>He looked between the prosecution and her witness, wondering to himself if either of them was going to come up with any objections before he had a chance to finish his thought.</p><p>“With that in mind,” he continued when met with silence, “does the prosecution not find it odd that the fatal wound was at such a straight angle?”</p><p>The doctor gave him a thoughtful frown.</p><p>“I request that you elaborate further for us, Mr Wright,” said Michaela, twirling her hair around her finger again, “as I cannot say that I am quite sure what you intend to describe.”</p><p>Phoenix shrugged again.</p><p>“Sure,” he said, and turned sideways to face his co-counsels. “Luke, work with me here for a moment.”</p><p>“Huh?” Luke was taken aback.</p><p>“Imagine that you have a knife or knitting needle or whatever in your hand,” Phoenix explained to him, “and you want to stab me in the neck with it. You’re taking me by surprise, so I’m not going to put up any resistance. Show the court what you would do.”</p><p>Luke blinked slowly in bafflement.</p><p>“Um…” he said uncertainly. “Alright.”</p><p>He clenched one of his fists and took a deep breath, and then swung that fist up towards Phoenix in the best stabbing motion he could muster. His hand ended up at the foot of Phoenix’s neck, thumb and forefinger pressed against his skin, knuckles resting on the soft wool of his scarf.</p><p>He remained in that position while his face flushed as red as that scarf.</p><p>“You see that?” Phoenix asked, and tried to look around the room without moving his head to preserve the pose. “Your Honour, Dr Wallace, did you see that? Out there in the gallery, did you see that?”</p><p>“We all saw it, Mr Wright, so please explain!” the judge exclaimed.</p><p>Phoenix pushed Luke’s hand away from his neck and turned back to the rest of the court.</p><p>“A person stabbing someone taller than themselves is going to hold their weapon,” he held out his hand with a fist facing downwards, “in such a way that said weapon enters at an <em> upward </em> angle.” He swung up his fist in a diagonal motion. “Had Luke been holding the same weapon used to kill Mr Oldfart, its tip would have ended up somewhere here.” He pressed his forefinger into the corner of his jaw. “In my jaw. Wouldn’t you agree, Dr Wallace?”</p><p>Dr Wallace stared at him in surprise.</p><p>“I would.” He was clearly struggling to keep his jaw from dropping. “That’s a bloody good point!”</p><p>A ripple of quiet chatter splashed through the gallery as Phoenix slipped his hand back into his pocket. It was hard to tell if it was positive or not, but if he had been able to spark a bit of doubt in these people’s minds, then it was enough for now.</p><p>“Mr Wright, that was brilliant!” cried Luke.</p><p>“Keep it up, Daddy!” Trucy piped up. “You’re doing great!”</p><p>“I’m sorry if I came across as insulting to the Professor,” said Phoenix, “but his height – or lack thereof – has proven to be rather important. Hopefully the judge will see just <em> how </em> important it actually is-”</p><p>“Objection.”</p><p>The courtroom chatter faded into silence at the sound of Michaela’s gentle voice, and when Phoenix looked back at her, his heart sank again at the sight of her smile.</p><p>“…or maybe not,” he grumbled.</p><p>He could have sworn that for just a moment, Michaela giggled at him.</p><p>“You have made a rather splendid point concerning the angle of attack, Mr Wright,” she said playfully, “and I commend you for your efforts to protect a man who is clearly a friend of yours, but there is one factor that you appear to have failed to consider.”</p><p>“Is there?” Phoenix restrained the urge to punch something, since the only somethings nearby were a pair of children. “And what’s that?”</p><p>Michaela pulled a pen from somewhere inside her coat.</p><p>“It would be the manner in which the weapon was held, Mr Wright,” she explained. “You have presumed that the killer held the weapon like <em> this </em> -” she held the pen as if threatening the defence with it. “-in a forehand manner, but what if they were to hold it like <em> this</em>, in a backhand manner?”</p><p>She turned the pen around in her hand so that the business end was protruding from under her pinkie finger.</p><p>Phoenix raised his own fist and waved it in front of him to see for himself how the stabbing motion would look.</p><p>“…oh…” he said weakly, hand hanging in the air.</p><p>“And not only would that alter the angle of the wound,” said Michaela, “but I do believe the blow would be dealt with a somewhat larger degree of force than a forehand attack would offer, as well as mitigating any discrepancies in height between the two parties involved.”</p><p>She slipped her pen back into her coat.</p><p>“My apologies, Mr Wright, as that was truly an impressive effort,” she said, her smile widening ever so slightly, “but it is still entirely possible for your darling Professor Layton to have struck that fatal attack.”</p><p>Just when Phoenix thought his heart couldn’t drop any further.</p><p>“Yeah, I…” he said numbly. “I guess it is.”</p><p>A small wave of quiet discussion rippled through the gallery again, and even though he seriously didn’t want to, Phoenix looked up again to see what the mayor’s reaction could possibly be.</p><p>She was smiling at him, just like her daughter, but something odd, something sinister was glinting in her steely grey eyes.</p><p>No, Phoenix told himself. There was nothing odd or sinister about it. She was just a creepy woman, a disgusting person, enjoying seeing him getting ridiculed and publicly humiliated in front of everybody she knew.</p><p>It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened, would it?</p><p>“No!” Trucy cried beside him. “How could she? We were doing so well!”</p><p>“The trial’s not over yet!” Luke yanked the autopsy folder closer to himself. “Dr Wallace is only the first witness! I’m sure there are others left to cross-examine!”</p><p>He flipped the folder open and started flipping through its contents.</p><p>“Something about the photos…” he muttered. “Mr Wright, you said it was the <em> photos</em>…”</p><p>“Both the defence and prosecution have made some extremely valid points,” the judge said, “concerning the act that took poor Wrenkley’s life. However, unless Dr Wallace has further information he would like to add, I believe his cross-examination should be considered finished.”</p><p>“I’ve said all I can, Your Honour,” said the doctor in question. “I was brought here to tell the facts and I’ve done that.”</p><p>He picked up his bag and clutched it under his shoulder. Looking at him, Phoenix was reminded of the poor man’s discomfort at being separated from his bonsai tree for too long.</p><p>“While it’s true that I’m grateful to Mr Wright and his friends for clearing my name yesterday,” said Dr Wallace, “I have no reason to consider myself affiliated with them on anything other than a professional level. I have made no effort to aid the defence more than the prosecution, or vice versa. I am impartial.”</p><p>Yes, it would have been too much to hope that the whole world <em> wasn’t </em>against them, wouldn’t it?</p><p>“Of course,” said the judge. “If that is all, then the witness may step down.”</p><p>Dr Wallace nodded and turned away from the witness stand.</p><p>“HOLD IT!”</p><p>But he had only taken a single step before the shout caused him, as well as everybody else in the courtroom, to freeze.</p><p>Luke slammed his hands on their bench as hard as he could.</p><p>“Dr Wallace!” he shouted, and pointed at the frozen witness. “I’ve just realised what’s been bothering me about your photograph of the crime scene!”</p><p>None of the defence saw the man rolling his eyes, but he carried the appropriate energy with him as he returned to the stand.</p><p>“Then tell me,” he sighed. “I haven’t got all day.”</p><p>Before Phoenix had a chance to stop him, Luke picked up the two photos and looked between them, now seemingly fully numb to the grisly scene they displayed.</p><p>“Doctor, you used flash photography to capture this image, didn’t you?” the teen asked.</p><p>“I did,” Dr Wallace said bluntly. “It was a dark night. What’s your point?”</p><p>“My point is that the flash reflected off the snow.” Luke twisted the photos around to show the court. “It washed out everything into whiteness and made it impossible to see any details.”</p><p>He slammed the photos on the bench.</p><p>“We can’t see any footprints in the snow!” he shouted.</p><p>Phoenix glanced down at the photos again. Just like Luke had said, the snow in the overview photo was a blank, featureless white.</p><p>“<em> That’s </em> what it was!” he realised. “Good call, Luke!”</p><p>Luke’s cheeks reddened ever so slightly at the compliment, but he didn’t seem to let it linger.</p><p>“This is important, Dr Wallace,” he said. “Did you take any photos of the crime scene <em> without </em> using flash?”</p><p>Dr Wallace slammed down his bag again.</p><p>“I did, but only one,” he replied. “I printed it off just in case, but since the focus of our cross-examination was the post-mortem, I didn’t see any reason to present it to the court.”</p><p>“Dr Wallace!” cried the judge. “As a witness, it is not your prerogative to decide what is and what isn’t vital to the court! I demand that you submit this photograph as evidence immediately!”</p><p>The doctor shrugged again and opened up his bag.</p><p>“Luke, are you sure you don’t want to take this case from me?” Phoenix asked. “You’re handling it pretty damn well, especially for it being your mentor on the chopping block.”</p><p>“Uh, um…” Luke flushed again, laughing nervously as he tugged on his scarf. “If it’s all the same to you, Mr Wright, I think I’d prefer to leave the majority of the defence to someone with actual experience.”</p><p>The moment Dr Wallace deposited the photo on the bench, he snatched it close enough for the three of them to get a good look, and Phoenix struggled to hide his relief at how dark and shadowed the corpse was in the yellow glow of the streetlamps.</p><p>Sure enough, now that the snow wasn’t lit up by a flash, two sets of footprints were clearly visible leading up to Mr Oldfart’s crumpled form.</p><p>Only two sets of footprints.</p><p>In spite of what Phoenix had been hoping for, it was rather damning.</p><p>“Why, this…” The judge stared at the photo he had been provided with in horror as Dr Wallace returned to the witness stand. “This is almost certainly vital to the investigation! Dr Wallace, how could you have left this out?”</p><p>“I didn’t think you needed two different versions of the same photo, alright?” the doctor snapped.</p><p>“Two sets of footprints leading to Mr Oldfart’s body,” Phoenix pointed out to his assistants.</p><p>Trucy was frowning, obviously thinking the same thing as her father, but Luke’s determination seemed to have only been solidified.</p><p>“Just like I’d suspected,” he said.</p><p>“Luke, what the heck have you been putting in your tea?” Phoenix demanded. “The only footprints there would’ve had to belong to Mr Oldfart and the Professor! This is pretty terrible for our case!”</p><p>“Not necessarily,” Luke said, and he pressed the photo into Phoenix’s hands. “Mr Wright, do you notice anything about these footprints?”</p><p>Was there something he had missed?</p><p>Phoenix leaned in closer, staring as intently as he could at the footprints. He had a feeling that if he stared any harder, he would ignite the paper.</p><p>The photos on the right side of Mr Oldfart had to have come from Layton. He could see a dent in the snow near the old man’s head from the Professor’s knee, on top of the fact that there were no footprints leading away, but the other set didn’t have any leaving footprints either!</p><p>No.</p><p>No, there didn’t need to be. Those footprints… those were <em> darker </em> than the other set. The shadows were deeper.</p><p>“Hang on a sec,” said Phoenix. “I can tell the ones on the right are the Professor’s because there’s an indentation where he was kneeling, but the footprints on the left… why would they be deeper? Unless- AH!”</p><p>He exclaimed in shock as he realised why that would be.</p><p>“You get it now?” asked Luke.</p><p>“I do!” cried Phoenix. “Whoever left Mr Oldfart in the street must have retraced their steps!”</p><p>“Great catch, Luke!” cried Trucy. “I would never have noticed that!”</p><p>“I guess the Professor’s rubbed off on me, huh?” Luke said bashfully.</p><p>“Have I heard that correctly?” Michaela asked from across the room. “Does the defence wish to claim that the person to have killed poor Uncle Wrenkley in the street walked back stepping in their previous footsteps so as to hide their presence from any person who may come their way to investigate?”</p><p>Phoenix felt heat rising through his body. It had been a while since he’d found something to direct his anger at that wasn’t himself. Whatever Michaela’s mother had been expecting, she was about to be disappointed.</p><p>“That’s exactly what we’re claiming, Ms Skellig,” he replied. “If you have any evidence to present which would disprove our claims, I’d be more than happy to see it.”</p><p>He glanced sideways again to see what her mother might be thinking of his smug attitude.</p><p>She was still smiling.</p><p>When Phoenix looked back at Michaela, he saw that she was still smiling as well. Whatever wavelength the two of them were operating on, he hoped he wouldn’t be forced to tune in to their station.</p><p>“Dr Wallace,” she said calmly, “you are welcome to step down, and you have my gratitude for how unfathomably helpful you have been in bringing us closer to the truth concerning this case.”</p><p>The doctor nodded, snatched up his bag again and jogged out of the hall without another moment of hesitation.</p><p>“Oh no.” Phoenix felt his determination washing away under the crashing waves of dread. “Don’t tell me…”</p><p>“Your Honour, if you would be so kind,” said Michaela, “I would like to summon my next witness.”</p><p>“That’s quite alright, Ms Skellig,” said the judge. “Would you mind telling us who they are?”</p><p>“None other than those to have discovered the crime scene before any one of us was aware that it even existed,” Michaela told him. “Please allow me to welcome Fatargan’s dedicated police force to the stand.”</p><p>That creepy redhead who’d been so uncooperative and difficult last night? <em> Joy</em>.</p><p>“Is it just me or do her sentences seem shorter than normal?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“Maybe that’s what happens when she’s stressed?” Phoenix suggested. “I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He stood at the stand with one hand on his hip, the other holding his cap’s brim down over his eyes as though he was shielding himself from the court.</p><p>Michaela seemed to take no notice of this odd, withdrawn stance.</p><p>“Would you both be so kind as to introduce yourselves to the court?”</p><p>“Wait,” said Luke. “Both?”</p><p>“Oh.” Phoenix forced himself not to groan. “<em>That </em>explains a lot.”</p><p>A coy smirk tugged at the officer’s lips.</p><p>“Even in the furthest reaches of civilisation,” he said, “there will always be laws and those willing to break them…”</p><p>He twisted on his heels, but rather than his back facing the court, a second police officer appeared, identical right down to the pose and the smile.</p><p>“…and when those narrow-minded fools dare to strike,” this mirror image said, “that’s where we come in.”</p><p>He turned on his heels as well and the first officer became visible again.</p><p>“We are Fatargan’s police force,” he said, “standing proud to defend our town from wrongdoing…”</p><p>And then he twisted again to reveal his double a second time.</p><p>“…and we shall not hesitate to strike it down wherever we see it.”</p><p>A hand appeared by his side and he took it, and the mirror images twirled around as if dancing before stomping, snapping their feet together, and giving the court an identical pair of salutes, standing rigidly side by side.</p><p>“Sergeants Ray and Ven Poe of the Fatargan Police Department at your service.”</p><p>Phoenix sighed. Already his head was starting to hurt.</p><p>“Yeah, thought so,” he groaned.</p><p>“Identical twins,” said Luke, apparently to himself. “Of course. They’re <em> twins</em>.”</p><p>“Why are they acting so similar?” asked Trucy, clutching Phoenix’s hoodie. “It’s creeping me out!”</p><p>Michaela just giggled at the cops’ display.</p><p>“Thank you very much for your greeting, officers,” she said happily. “You were the first to come upon the scene and soon after arrested the man you believe to be responsible, did you not?”</p><p>The Officers Poe nodded in perfect sync.</p><p>“Mr Oldfart was still freshly dead when we found him-” started Ray, or perhaps Ven.</p><p>“-so it was clear that he had collapsed right there-” added Ven, or perhaps Ray.</p><p>“-and there wasn’t anybody else nearby-” continued the first.</p><p>“-so of course we took him in for questioning-” the second went on.</p><p>“-and subsequently made an arrest,” the pair said together.</p><p>Almost like these twins were doing with each other, Luke’s grimace of distaste was perfectly echoing Phoenix’s in both appearance and mood.</p><p>“That’s rather annoying,” the poor boy said.</p><p>“It doesn’t take long for the novelty to wear off, does it?” Phoenix agreed.</p><p>“Daddy, can I put my chair behind you?” asked Trucy. “Don’t sit on it or anything. I just don’t want either of those guys to look at me.”</p><p>“Go ahead,” said Phoenix. “Let me know if you want to hide under my jacket.”</p><p>“Or in my coat,” Luke added as Trucy jumped down from her chair. “I think there might be enough room for two in here, but don’t quote me on that.”</p><p>She shifted her chair to behind Phoenix and clambered back up, and Phoenix felt her grab hold of his back, most likely for security. He couldn’t blame her. If this went anything like his previous encounter with twins in a trial, she had every right to be terrified.</p><p>“I thank you for devoting your valuable time to coming here with intent to inform us, gentlemen,” said the unfazed Michaela, “and I hereby request that you tell us about everything that you found when you arrived at the crime scene.”</p><p>“Of course, Ms Michaela,” said both officers at once.</p><p>The sound of the dual voices made Phoenix’s skin crawl. He forced himself not to visibly shudder at how they blended together, even though it was like a record scratching right inside his ears.</p><p>“Wait,” said Luke. “Their names are Ray and Ven, but which one’s which? How are we supposed to tell them apart?”</p><p>Phoenix rubbed his face. He wanted to slump over in exhaustion, but the last thing he wanted was to expose Trucy after she had tried to hide herself in terror thanks to these <em> creeps</em>.</p><p>“Given their behaviour,” he said, “I’m not entirely sure if even <em> they </em> know the difference.”</p><p>It was difficult to pick up his journal and draw out his pencil while remaining upright, straight-backed and square-shouldered, but his scrabbling fingers managed to get him ready to take notes just before the twins had finished clearing their throats.</p><p>Somehow the looks they were giving each other were even more suspect than the looks Angela Skellig kept shooting at Phoenix. He couldn’t avoid thinking that didn’t bode well.</p><p>“A call was made to our station concerning a crime supposedly seen being committed not far from the King’s Arms,” said the first of the doppelgangers.</p><p>“When we got there, we found the defendant kneeling over Mr Oldfart’s body,” the second continued.</p><p>“We apprehended him on the spot and took him back to the station,” the first one added.</p><p>“<em>He </em> stayed behind to make an assessment of the scene-” the second went on.</p><p>“-while <em> he </em> conducted an interview of the prime suspect,” said the first.</p><p>The pair of them saluted again, their movements perfectly synchronised right down to any unsteady wavering of their hands.</p><p>“As soon as we felt we had sufficient reason,” they both said together, “we placed him under arrest.”</p><p>Phoenix considered himself lucky. He wasn’t getting any unpleasant memories of the last time he had encountered twins in a courtroom on account of the thought that he was gaining even <em> more </em> unpleasant memories right here and now.</p><p>How was it that just listening to two people talking was enough to give him a desperate need to shower?</p><p>“I see,” he heard the judge say. “It’s reassuring to know that we have two such stalwart enforcers of justice watching over our town.”</p><p>It was hard not to laugh at that description.</p><p>“If they’re so stalwart,” said Phoenix, “where were they when an angry mob was breaking down Dr Wallace’s door?”</p><p>Thank goodness nobody seemed to have heard him.</p><p>“Very well, Mr Wright,” the judge said. “You may begin your cross-examination.”</p><p>Phoenix rubbed his face again. Just listening to these two was giving him a pounding headache.</p><p>“This could be tough,” he said to his accomplices, making sure to keep his voice down so that Michaela’s elephant ears didn’t pick up on his uncertainty. “I’ve never cross-examined two of the same person before.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Trucy said behind him. “You’ve questioned twins before, haven’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah, but never ones so similar!” Phoenix pointed out. “And not at the same goddamn time!”</p><p>His spiral into panic was disturbed by Luke’s hand on his arm.</p><p>“We’re right here if you need any help, Mr Wright,” he said with a friendly smile. “Just let us know, okay?”</p><p>Trucy let go of Phoenix’s back and pulled him back into a tight hug, and Phoenix took as deep a breath as he could without letting slip just how close he had been to another freak-out.</p><p>He gave both of his co-counsels a grateful pat on their hands.</p><p>“Thanks, kids,” he said to them both. “It’s reassuring to know you two are on my side.”</p><p>The next page on his journal unfortunately wasn’t blank, but that didn’t matter in the long run. It wasn’t like the prosecution needed to see that his notes on this cross-examination were going to be written underneath a doodle of Larry professing his love to the Pink Princess while the Steel Samurai looked on in envy and Edgeworth stalked the Steel Samurai from out of the upper left corner of the page.</p><p>He took a quick look at his notes on the testimony and hoped that nobody would realise he had already forgotten which one of these twins was the first.</p><p>“Okay, this is very important,” he said, and Trucy withdrew her arms from around his chest, presumably to hide herself. “Who made that call, officers? Who notified you of this crime?”</p><p>“Sorry, mate,” said one of the officers. “Anonymous tip.”</p><p>“They asked to remain unknown,” said the other.</p><p>The pair smiled at Phoenix from under their caps and Phoenix, for his part, struggled to hide his bafflement.</p><p>“…uh…” he said awkwardly.</p><p>He couldn’t even recall the last time a witness had so blatantly flat out refused to provide information. At least some of the others he’d dealt with had tried to dance around their stubborn withholding of the details they knew!</p><p>“Officers, this is a court of law,” Luke spoke up. “An innocent man could get convicted if you don’t tell us who placed that call!”</p><p>“Why are you so interested in our tipper?” asked the one on the right.</p><p>“Does it really matter who called it in?” asked the one on the left.</p><p>“Going by what the Professor told us,” Trucy called from behind Phoenix, “you showed up right after he found the body! That means someone called who knew about it before it had been discovered! How did you get there so fast?”</p><p>“Took the words right out of my mouth, Truce,” Phoenix said over his shoulder. “Good job.”</p><p>The twins scoffed. Both at the same time. The sound made Phoenix grit his teeth in distaste.</p><p>“The crime scene was only fifteen seconds’ walk away from our station,” said one of them.</p><p>“Of course we got there quickly,” added the other.</p><p>Phoenix’s heart dropped for what had to be the fiftieth time that day. There was nothing he could do to debate that.</p><p>“That’s a good point,” Trucy said quietly. Phoenix heard a squeak of fear and felt her clutching at his back again, and he felt a sudden urge to drag these officers out of the room for frightening his baby girl.</p><p>“My point still stands!” cried Luke. “Officer Poe-”</p><p>“<em>Which one?</em>” the twins asked simultaneously.</p><p>Did Luke’s eye just twitch? Phoenix suddenly wondered how much it would take for this boy to officially and totally <em> snap</em>.</p><p>“Either!” he shouted. “If you know who made that call, please tell us who!”</p><p>“We’re under no obligation to reveal that information,” said one of the officers.</p><p>“Anonymous tips are to remain anonymous,” said the other.</p><p>It was difficult not to question this. Phoenix had a feeling that if he tried, one of these cops would pull out a whirlwind of BS about some obscure British or Scottish law he didn’t know about that allowed police to withhold that information, even in a court of law.</p><p>If that wasn’t the case, then there was definitely some other reason why the officers were refusing to provide their caller’s information.</p><p>At this point, only one possible explanation had pushed itself to the forefront of Phoenix’s mind.</p><p>“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he muttered to Luke.</p><p>“That it’s possible our tipper could’ve been the real killer trying to set the Professor up?” asked Luke.</p><p>“Exactly,” said Phoenix, twisting in place to address Luke in a manner more befitting of a gentleman. “Or at the very least, they could’ve been the person who dumped the body. The cops arriving on the scene right after the Professor is <em> way </em> too coincidental-”</p><p>“Daddy, please don’t turn to the side!” Trucy whispered hoarsely. “That’ll make it easier for them to look at me!”</p><p>“Sorry, sorry!” Phoenix straightened up his back again. “I’ll try my best to protect you, I promise!”</p><p>There wasn’t much to make a note of here. He wrote down ‘cops being uncooperative jerks’ for the sake of looking busy.</p><p>“Can you tell us what the Professor was doing when you found him?” he asked. “We need some more details. Please be specific.”</p><p>The identical redheads smiled again.</p><p>“He had just about finished positioning Mr Oldfart’s body,” said one of the two.</p><p>“Had him staring right out at the path leading up to the Pictish Shrine,” added the other.</p><p>“OBJECTION!”  Luke slammed on the desk again. “Unless you have proof that’s what he was doing, that statement must be considered speculation!”</p><p>If these cops’ smiles got any slimier, they could be used as glue.</p><p>“What a coincidence,” said the one on the left.</p><p>“We happen to have proof,” said the one on the right.</p><p>Luke’s hands slowly slipped away from the bench.</p><p>“…you do?” he asked weakly.</p><p>The officers straightened up, mirroring each other’s movements perfectly.</p><p>“Your Honour, Ms Skellig,” said one of them.</p><p>“Esteemed members of the court,” said another.</p><p>They reached into a pocket – whose, it was hard to tell – and pulled out something red in a clear plastic ziploc bag.</p><p>“Please take a look at this!” they chorused.</p><p>Once they had laid the bag on the ‘stand’, it became clear that the contents were a glove. A fine woollen knit, by the looks of things, in a pleasant shade of muted red.</p><p>It would have looked rather cosy and comfortable to wear if it hadn’t been for the brownish stains on the fore and middle fingers.</p><p>“Good lord!” cried the judge. “That glove’s fingers are covered in blood!”</p><p>Phoenix took a brief look sideways at where the Professor was seated, and saw him nervously slipping his bare hands into his coat pockets.</p><p>“Exactly!” one of the cops said happily. “He clearly got it all over himself while delivering the killing blow.”</p><p>“Or if not that,” said the second, equally as proud, “then when he regretted what he had done and tried to save Mr Oldfart somehow.”</p><p>The pair held out their hands, presenting the glove and gleaming with pride.</p><p>“Or like we said,” they said in unison, “when he was positioning the body!”</p><p>Phoenix gritted his teeth again and flipped back to his evidence list to add another entry.</p><p> </p><p><em> Layton’s Glove </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> - The Professor’s glove from the night of the crime. It’s stained with blood, but only on the first two fingers. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Mr Wright, we have to mention this!” Luke whispered furiously. “We have to tell the judge the truth about this! We can’t let them pass this off!”</p><p>“I know, I know!” Phoenix replied as he returned to his cross-examination notes. “It’s all about timing, Luke. Sometimes you have to take a few steps before you can make any real progress in a trial.”</p><p>He looked across the hall at the prosecution’s bench and, sure enough, Michaela was smugly coiling her hair around her finger.</p><p>“Quite the interesting piece of evidence we have here, Mr Wright, do you not agree?” she said pleasantly, “Why, if I did not know any better, I would have said this was perhaps the most damning piece of evidence that could possibly be submitted, next to a murder weapon covered in Mr Layton’s fingerprints, of course.”</p><p>“We’ll see,” said Phoenix, faking a smug smile of his own as he turned back to the witnesses. “I assume the Professor made no attempt to resist arrest?”</p><p>For the first time that day, the twins’ identical expressions fell into a frown.</p><p>“Actually, no,” one of them said. “He didn’t.”</p><p>“Came back to the station,” added the other, “calm as can be.”</p><p>Phoenix’s lowered hopes saw an ever-so-slight uptick. If the judge could be persuaded to understand the Professor’s mellow nature, there was no way he could view the man as a murderer, right?</p><p>“Did he say anything as you were leading him back?” asked Luke.</p><p>The response was another simultaneous scoff.</p><p>“Only that there had been a ‘terrible misunderstanding’,” one of them chuckled.</p><p>“Frightfully sorry, old chum!” said the other.</p><p>Then they laughed, and somehow it was the most skin-crawling sound Phoenix had heard all goddamn day.</p><p>He swallowed hard and resisted the urge to search out a sink he could use to wash his hands.</p><p>“Even their laughing is in perfect sync,” he muttered.</p><p>“Please hide me, Daddy!”</p><p>“Don’t worry. You’re safe behind me. Luke?”</p><p>Luke’s fists were trembling on the tabletop. It was a miracle the entire bench wasn’t quivering underneath.</p><p>“How dare they?” he hissed. “How dare they mock the Professor like that?!”</p><p>Phoenix wanted to tell him that he understood, but the realisation that he’d have to explain how many times Maya had been on trial caused him to rethink the stance. There was no way he was getting into <em> that </em> territory.</p><p>“Like I said,” he said instead, “sometimes you have to take steps. Even if those steps are on fire. And your shoes are on fire. And everything’s on fire. And you’re in Hell.”</p><p>“I know, I know…” Luke either didn’t notice the escalation in the analogy or agreed wholeheartedly. “And I know a gentleman doesn’t attack unwarranted, but do you think I could get away with it if I claimed Queensbury Rules?”</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t help but frown again. He could swear he had heard that term before, but…</p><p>“Do you even know what Queensbury Rules are?” he asked.</p><p>Amazingly, Luke was frowning as well.</p><p>“Do you?” he asked nervously.</p><p>“Luke, I’ve never even heard that term before now,” said Phoenix.</p><p>“I know it’s something to do with punching…” Trucy said uncertainly.</p><p>Before Phoenix had a chance to ask if it was some boxing style, the judge cleared his throat.</p><p>“If the witnesses have had their joke and the defence are finished gossiping,” he said, “could we please return to the topic at hand?”</p><p>Having been cut off before he had a chance to explain what Queensbury Rules were, Luke let out a faint snarl of frustration and clenched his fists on the tabletop again. And was that sweat beading on his forehead?</p><p>“Save your strength, Luke,” Phoenix told him. “There’ll be plenty of time for punching later.”</p><p>He scribbled down a note about the Professor being cooperative and made sure not to mention that the witnesses had been jerks about explaining it.</p><p>“What did you find during your investigation of the scene?” he asked the witnesses.</p><p>Thankfully the twins looked thoughtful again, devoid of that infuriating smirk they had been sharing before now.</p><p>“Sadly, not much,” said the one on the left.</p><p>“Obviously he had already disposed of the murder weapon,” said the one on the right.</p><p>“Huh?” Luke stroked his chin in thought. “Wait a minute…”</p><p>Phoenix looked over at the confused boy. It had been true that none of them had found any murder weapon at the scene, so what was he thinking so hard about all of a sudden?</p><p>“Luke?” he asked.</p><p>“OBJECTION!” If the kid slammed on their desk any harder, the laminated wood was going to snap under the force. “Officer Poe, what you just said is a direct contradiction of your previous statements!”</p><p>“Is it?” asked one of them.</p><p>“How so?” asked the other.</p><p>“You claimed previously to have taken only fifteen seconds to arrive at the crime scene,” said Luke, tapping on Phoenix’s open journal and almost knocking it out of his hand, “and yet just now, you say that Professor Layton had disposed of the murder weapon before you arrived! How could that be possible if you were so fast?”</p><p>Before Phoenix had a chance to admonish him for mistreating his journal, the officers started their skin-crawling laughing again.</p><p>Poor Luke was utterly dumbfounded at the sight.</p><p>“What’s so funny?” he asked.</p><p>Ray and Ven stared right at him and he shrank back under their gaze.</p><p>“This is why you pay attention to every detail, mate,” one of them said.</p><p>“Didn’t you hear Dr Wallace’s testimony?” asked the other.</p><p>“Yes, but-”</p><p>“You yourselves talked at length about the size of the fatal wound,” the first twin pointed out.</p><p>“Anyone who knows anything about human biology knows that…” The second trailed off.</p><p>Then they both flourished their hands in a noticeably presentation-like manner.</p><p>“A wound that size would take a while to bleed out!” they declared.</p><p>“…ah,” said Luke.</p><p>Another glance at Phoenix’s journal and he tried, apparently in vain, to loosen his scarf.</p><p>“Wow,” said Phoenix, “our resident creepy twins know biology. Who’d have thunk?”</p><p>“I was so sure I had them!” Luke sighed.</p><p>“It was a good try, Luke.” Phoenix gave the kid a pat on his shoulder. “We’ll make a lawyer out of you yet.”</p><p>He kept his journal open and picked up his pencil again, aiming for the most Professional and In Control look he could manage.</p><p>“Officer,” he said, “did you find anything else of note during your examination?”</p><p>The twins linked arms and hummed not only in thought, but in perfect symmetry. Phoenix resisted the urge to scratch some imaginary itch at the sound and sight of them.</p><p>“You know,” said the one on the right, “we didn’t find a thing.”</p><p>“That Professor must’ve been pretty busy before we got there,” said the one on the left.</p><p>Hm.</p><p>Phoenix pulled the folder back towards himself and had a look at the non-flash photo, at the two sets of footprints leading to the body that were the only evidence that anybody had been anywhere near Mr Oldfart’s body at the time of his death.</p><p>Busy, huh?</p><p>“I see,” he said. “Thank you, officers.”</p><p>“Huh?” Trucy said behind him. “What is it, Daddy?”</p><p>“Trucy, Luke,” Phoenix glanced between them, “make sure you’re paying attention.”</p><p>He turned back to the rest of the court, struggling not to smile at the satisfaction of a trial going his way at last.</p><p>“This line of questioning has revealed the biggest contradiction of the cross-examination so far!” he declared.</p><p><em> God </em> was it satisfying to see those smug cops falling off that high horse they were both so proud of.</p><p>“Then out with it, Mr Wright,” Michaela spoke up, “would you be so kind as to show the court some evidence to prove that this so-called contradiction exists?”</p><p>Phoenix finally allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction as he collected the photos together from the folder and fanned them out across the desk, poker style, for the rest of the court to see.</p><p>“I’d like the court to take another look at the photos provided by the good doctor,” he told them. “All of the photos, that is. Each one highlights a different contradiction with what Officers Poe are claiming about yesterday’s crime.”</p><p>Just in case they thought he was bluffing somehow, he slammed on the desk to make sure everyone was awake and paying attention.</p><p>“Let’s start with the crime scene overview taken with flash photography,” he said, and pointed at the first photo in the now-skewed row. “What do we see here that goes against what the officers stated?”</p><p>Luke leaned forward, twisting his head to try to see the photo the right way up.</p><p>“It’s the body having no snow on it, right?” he asked.</p><p>“Exactly,” said Phoenix. “Gold star, Luke. Now let’s have a look at the one that didn’t use flash.”</p><p>He tapped on the top edge of the photo in question.</p><p>“Who in the court can point out the contradiction here?”</p><p>A creak of wood told him that Trucy was leaning around him to see the table.</p><p>“Ooh! I know!” she said happily. “It’s the snow! There’s no blood on it!”</p><p>“You got it, Trucy,” Phoenix told her, struggling to contain his pride. “Gold star to you too.”</p><p>More faint chattering rippled through the gallery, and Phoenix felt his pride swell to an even greater degree.</p><p>Was this working?</p><p>Was the village actually swaying to their side?</p><p>“Objection.”</p><p>When he looked across at Michaela, he saw that she was twirling her hair around her finger <em> again</em>.</p><p>“You make an admirable effort, Mr Wright,” she said, “but could it not be possible that the snow was simply turned over so as to hide any blood that had soaked into it?”</p><p>Phoenix responded by shaking his head.</p><p>“I’m sorry, but no,” he told her, and he pointed down at the photos again. “As you can see, the only disturbance in this snow is the footprints. Had the snow been messed with in any other way, we’d definitely be able to see it, wouldn’t you think?”</p><p>Michaela froze. Her pale blonde hair fell away from her finger.</p><p>“…oh…” she said softly.</p><p>Phoenix struggled not to laugh at how defeated she looked.</p><p>“Our last contradiction comes from the final photo,” he told her, and he pointed at the close-up of Mr Oldfart’s body. “Let’s have a nice, close look at our victim’s neck. Funnily enough, <em> this </em> contradiction ties into a piece of evidence submitted by these very witnesses.”</p><p>“Please tell us, Mr Wright!” said the judge, eyes wide in amazement. “I’m on the edge of my seat over here!”</p><p>Phoenix bit back the comment he wanted to make about how the judge didn’t <em> have </em> a seat. Surely his feet were getting sore by now, weren’t they?</p><p>He strayed away from the defence bench, losing Trucy’s grip on his back as he moved, and he marched right over to the witness stand and snatched up the clear bag containing the Professor’s bloodstained glove.</p><p>“I’d like the court to have another look at Professor Layton’s glove,” he told the court, holding up the bag for everyone to see as he returned to his bench. “As you can see, only two fingers – forefinger and middle finger – are covered in Mr Oldfart’s blood.”</p><p>He laid the bag down next to the close-up photo.</p><p>“As you can see in this photo,” he said, “the blood on our victim’s neck is smudged where the Professor was touching it, but <em> only </em> where the Professor was touching it.”</p><p>Beside him, Luke slammed on the table yet again.</p><p>“I should think the facts of the matter have become clear by now,” he stated, radiating such confidence that Phoenix almost felt impressed. “The lack of snow on Mr Oldfart’s body and the spotless snow cover surrounding him indicates that this wasn’t where he died. Furthermore…” He tapped on the plastic bag. “How would it be possible to position a body the way the officers are claiming using only two fingers?”</p><p>“Not only did the Professor <em> not </em> kill Mr Oldfart,” Phoenix continued, “but in fact, the opposite is true. He wanted to check if he was still alive. Pressing two fingers to the neck? That’s a checking-for-a-pulse move if ever I saw one!”</p><p>He tapped his fingers as emphatically as he could on the photo.</p><p>“The lack of murder weapon at the scene,” he said, “combined with the only footprints leading <em> to </em> Mr Oldfart from the King’s Arms that the Professor departed only moments before discovering the body, further corroborate the defence’s claims on the matter.”</p><p>“Professor Layton did NOT kill Wrenkley Oldfart,” Luke said solidly.</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t help himself. He threw out his arm at the same time as Luke and they both pointed as hard and dramatically as they could.</p><p>“He was trying to help him!” they both shouted at once.</p><p>That did it. The gallery wasn’t even trying to keep their chatter quiet anymore. Their highlighting of the contradictions hadn’t so much caused a splash in the pond as a tsunami, washing away the prosecution’s claims with only the barest hint that any effort had been involved.</p><p>The judge slammed his so-called gavel on his lectern. The sound of thin metal on wood was piercing and harsh, and threatened to make Phoenix’s headache far worse than it already was.</p><p>“Order!” he shouted. “Order in the court!”</p><p>The chatter continued in spite of the hammering. It was difficult to tell, but the villagers seemed rather disgusted at this revelation.</p><p>“Did we do it, Mr Wright?” Luke whispered. “Have we won?”</p><p>Phoenix hesitated.</p><p>He wanted to say yes, but…</p><p>“I don’t know,” he said, and gathered the photos back into their folder. “In my experience, even after the judge passes his verdict, it isn’t necessarily over. The worst thing we can do is prematurely celebrate. Or celebrate at all. This is a <em> murder </em> trial, after all.”</p><p>“Oh no.”</p><p>He looked back at the little girl still hunched behind his back, and couldn’t help but think she’d be better at hiding herself if she just took that hat of hers off for a moment.</p><p>“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he asked.</p><p>“I just thought of something,” Trucy said nervously.</p><p>“HOLD IT!”</p><p>The double shout from the witness stand was finally enough to silence the gossiping gallery.</p><p>A cold wave of dread washed through Phoenix’s body again as he looked back over at the pair of police officers, who were once again arm-in-arm with smug little smirks.</p><p>“Not so fast, Mr Wright!” they cried in conjunction.</p><p>“You may think you’ve pulled one over on us-”</p><p>“-but there’s something you seem to have overlooked.”</p><p>The wave of dread somehow got even colder.</p><p>“I don’t like where this is headed,” Phoenix groaned.</p><p>At the sound of a faint giggle, he turned to the prosecution.</p><p>“Consider my proposal,” Michaela said pleasantly, “that a backhanded stabbing method would mitigate the issue of the height difference between the victim and the defendant, possibly altering the angle of the wound.”</p><p>She demonstrated again with the pen from inside her coat.</p><p>“Now,” she continued, “to stab with such force would quite possibly cause the murder weapon to become lodged within the victim’s body, and may have brought difficulty in removing said weapon that would require a change of grip from backhanded to forehanded.”</p><p>She turned the pen over in her hand.</p><p>“Could this not result in spatter on the two of the defendant’s fingers that were closest to the inevitable spray of blood?”</p><p>Running the scenario over in his head, Phoenix had only one conclusion he could come to.</p><p>She had a point. A <em> good </em> one. Of course it had been a bad idea to feel confident in himself and his skills, hadn’t it?</p><p>“There it is,” he sighed.</p><p>“Oh no,” said Luke in badly hidden dread. “That’s a good point, isn’t it?”</p><p>“…that’s what I was scared of,” Trucy said softly.</p><p>Another synchronised laugh brought Phoenix’s attention back to the witness stand.</p><p>“Quite a sharp little lassie, aren’t you?” asked Ray or Ven.</p><p>“Ever considered joining the police force?” suggested Ven or Ray.</p><p>“Not if it means working with you guys!” Phoenix felt Trucy shrink even further behind him. “Daddy, don’t let them look at me!”</p><p>Phoenix stepped to one side to better position himself between these creeps and his baby girl.</p><p>“I don’t want either of you talking to my daughter!” he yelled at them. “You’re scaring her!”</p><p>The twins shrugged.</p><p>“We were just making an offer,” they said in casual chorus.</p><p>“As for the blood spray,” Michaela went in undaunted, “it is very possible that Mr Oldfart’s efforts to save himself could have resulted in a lack of spatter on the surrounding snow.”</p><p>Even though she still seemed to have her eyes closed, Phoenix got a feeling that she was staring straight at his face.</p><p>“If you and yours cannot propose any other plausible explanations to the court,” she said sternly, “then I suggest you simply accept your defeat and depart this courtroom, perhaps to make an appointment with Dr Wallace and see if he can heal what remains of your dignity.”</p><p>That last remark almost caused Phoenix to flinch. Why was every prosecutor he came up against so unspeakably cruel?!</p><p>He sighed, rubbed his face and pressed his fingertips into his aching temples.</p><p>“Any other plausible explanations, huh?” he muttered to himself.</p><p>“Do you have any ideas, Mr Wright?” asked Luke.</p><p>“At this point,” said Phoenix, keeping his voice low and secretive again, “the prosecution and their witnesses are completely shut off. Trust me, I’ve done this before. The only way we could convince them the Professor is completely innocent is if we provided proof of another person being the culprit.”</p><p>“But who?” asked Trucy. “We don’t know anyone in this village well enough to finger them! Do we?”</p><p>Rubbing his head wasn’t doing anything to combat the headache. The irony that Phoenix desperately needed an ibuprofen or two…</p><p>He tried to think back. Back over what had happened last night. He and Luke had argued, he’d tried to make it up to the kid by teaching him a thing or two about crime scene investigation, then Luke had hurried away to a tree and…</p><p>He’d met something there, hadn’t he? An owl?</p><p>“What was it that owl said to you?” he asked. “A thin feminine figure?”</p><p>Luke stroked his chin again.</p><p>“He said ‘slender’,” he clarified, “but that usually translates to ‘thin’, I think. What if-”</p><p>“No,” Phoenix interrupted. “I am NOT calling an owl as a witness.”</p><p>“Okay, okay!” cried Luke.</p><p>“So the person who dumped Mr Oldfart’s body was a skinny lady,” Trucy said thoughtfully. “We can’t just say <em> that </em> to the judge, can we?”</p><p>“Of course not!” Phoenix replied. “Especially if we can’t-”</p><p>He cut himself off.</p><p>A horrifying idea had just kicked down the doors of his mind.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” he heard Luke say.</p><p>“Daddy?” said Trucy. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Phoenix ran the details of the case over in his mind again.</p><p>There had to be some logical way to connect them all together, didn’t there? Someone in the village who fulfilled all the characteristics they’d heard described…</p><p>“…a thin woman…” Phoenix said to himself. “…the murder weapon was something long and thin…”</p><p>It was no good. There was only one person who sprang to mind that fitted the criteria that had been laid out before them. Only one villager was a thin woman he knew for a fact possessed an implement that was long and thin.</p><p>“Oh,” he sighed. “Oh <em> no</em>.”</p><p>“Mr Wright?” Luke said again.</p><p>“Oh <em> god</em>.” Phoenix braced himself on the table to keep from falling to his knees from the shock of the revelation. “I…” He took a deep breath. “I think I know who might have done it!”</p><p>“Well, defence?” the judge asked right on cue. “Do you have any other plausible explanations for Ms Skellig to consider?”</p><p>Phoenix’s eyes wandered over to the gallery again.</p><p>Angela was still watching him. Still smiling in obvious amusement.</p><p>Did she know where this was going? Who he was about to suggest as a suspect?</p><p>No matter. She wasn’t involved in this case. The best thing he could do for himself and his mental health was just ignore her.</p><p>“I do,” he replied. “At the very least, I want to put forth a possibility.”</p><p>He slammed on the desk to emphasise his point.</p><p>“I hereby call Mrs Nosie Oldfart to the stand!”</p><p>“Pardon?” cried the judge.</p><p>“What?!” screamed Trucy.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart?!” Luke spluttered.</p><p>“You must be joking!” Even Michaela seemed uncharacteristically shocked.</p><p>And, of course, the gallery was all aflutter at the sound of this implication. Every single voice that Phoenix managed to single out from the chatter sounded more horrified than the last, and those that weren’t horrified were disgusted or just downright shocked.</p><p>“Order!” The judge slammed his toffee hammer again. “Order, I say!”</p><p>He stared Phoenix down as the gossip faded out.</p><p>“Mr Wright,” he said sternly, “you had better have a good reason for this!”</p><p>“I do, Your Honour,” Phoenix replied, “but I think it would be easier to explain if we could speak to Mrs Oldfart directly.”</p><p>He looked across at the stunned prosecutor.</p><p>“Does the prosecution have any objections?” he asked as pointedly as he could.</p><p>Michaela straightened herself up and tried to smooth down her hair. There was something funny about her frantic attempts to stay dignified.</p><p>“Only one,” she said, and she gently cleared her throat, “and that is that it is the prosecution’s duty to call witnesses, but I can see that you are increasingly desperate at this point, so I shall not deny you the straws you are trying furiously to grasp at.”</p><p>It seemed miraculous that she wasn’t smiling.</p><p>“I shall, however,” she continued, “require a brief space of time in which to prepare Auntie Nosie for her testimony, and I assume that you have no objections to that, Mr Wright.”</p><p>Phoenix just shook his head again.</p><p>“So long as you don’t encourage her to lie or hide critical facts, then fine,” he said, recalling a certain other pale-haired prosecutor he’d had no choice but to face in the courtroom. “How about you, Your Honour?”</p><p>The judge gave him and Michaela a nod.</p><p>“Very well,” he said. “I hereby declare a 15-minute recess, during which time I suggest the prosecution prepare its next witness and the defence gather its thoughts. We wouldn’t want you making fools of yourselves, after all.”</p><p>Phoenix bit back the comment he wanted to make on how it wouldn’t be the first time as the judge brought his hammer down again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Are you okay, Professor?” It was obvious Luke was using all his self-control to hold back from hugging the defendant.</p><p>“I’m quite alright, Luke,” Layton replied, and he gave his apprentice a gentle smile of pride. “As a matter of fact, I’m very impressed with you.” He patted Luke on top of his hat. “I had no idea my dear apprentice was a lawyerly prodigy.”</p><p>“Aw, come on!” Luke shook himself out from under the Professor’s hand.</p><p>“My one concern is that Mr Wright may plan to snatch you away from me,” said Layton.</p><p>“What? Daddy?!” Trucy put a hand on her chest in mock horror. “Never!”</p><p>Phoenix, meanwhile, kicked at the snow under his feet and shoved his hands as deep into his pockets as he could to protect them from the breeze that bit at his wrists.</p><p>“I wouldn’t,” he said. “I’m a bit too worried to consider that.”</p><p>“What do you have to worry about, Dad?” asked Trucy. “You’re doing great!”</p><p>“But if we’re wrong about this, it could go south <em> fast</em>,” Phoenix pointed out. “And that’s not me being dramatic, it’s me being realistic. If we consider how uncooperative Mrs Oldfart was yesterday when she was just pretending her husband was sick, I don’t know if we’ll be ready now that he’s genuinely <em> dead</em>.”</p><p>A gentle hand on his arm caused him to look down.</p><p>“I share your worries, Mr Wright,” the Professor told him. “I understand the grief of losing a loved one. It, ah…”</p><p>He turned away, pulling his hat down over his eyes.</p><p>“It can do strange things to the mind.”</p><p>Uh-oh. There was a <em> story </em> here.</p><p>One that was best left untold for now, Phoenix decided.</p><p>“So you guys really are scared, huh?” asked Trucy.</p><p>She grabbed Luke’s hand and hugged him tight against her chest.</p><p>“Yeah,” Luke replied. “I guess we are.”</p><p>“You don’t need to be!” Trucy said suddenly. “If things really do go wrong, I have an idea that can help us all get out! Or at least buy us all some time!”</p><p>She pointed a proud finger towards the pale grey sky.</p><p>Phoenix got a feeling that her idea was one of a performative nature.</p><p>“Okay, now I <em> have </em>to know,” he said. “Out with it, Trucy. What’s your idea?”</p><p>Trucy released Luke’s hand. Suddenly shy, she fidgeted with the green diamond that held her brooch over her shoulders.</p><p>“Um, Daddy…” Her voice was quiet and frightened. “Do you remember the day we first met?”</p><p>As if that was a question that even needed to be asked.</p><p>“Yes,” said Phoenix, “of course I-”</p><p>And then he remembered how that day had ended.</p><p>“No,” he said, keeping his hands in his pockets so that nobody could see them shaking. “No, Trucy. We are <em> not </em> doing that. <em> No</em>.”</p><p>“Doing what?” Luke asked innocently. “Trucy, what are you talking about?”</p><p>“You don’t need to know,” Phoenix snapped. “We’ll find some other way, Trucy. I am NOT letting you-”</p><p>“Daddy, what other choice do we have?” cried Trucy. “I’ve done it before, remember? As long as the Professor knows what to do, it’ll be easy!”</p><p>To Phoenix’s dismay, the Professor in question stepped up beside his daughter.</p><p>“Much as I hate to admit it, Mr Wright,” he said, “we need to keep every option we have in mind. If your daughter has an idea, I’m willing to listen to it and take it into consideration.”</p><p>“What’s your idea, Trucy?” Luke kneeled down to look her in the eye. “Come on. Tell us what your plan is.”</p><p>There wasn’t any way of talking her out of this, was there?</p><p>Phoenix turned away so that nobody else could see the look on his face, as he knew it would only raise more questions that he seriously did not want to answer.</p><p>“Okay,” he heard Trucy say, “but I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Colour Out of Snow part 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The judge slammed his ‘gavel’ on his lectern, eliciting a skull-piercing tap.</p><p>“Court will now reconvene,” he declared.</p><p>Phoenix shoved both of his hands into his pockets so that nobody could see him clenching his fists in frustration.</p><p>“You’re unbelievable, Trucy,” he hissed. “I can’t believe you would suggest something like…”</p><p>It was difficult to find ways to phrase his frustration that wouldn’t upset her.</p><p>“…like tha- how could you?!” he managed.</p><p>“Daddy, it’s just a last resort, okay?” Trucy replied. “If everything goes well, we won’t have to do it!”</p><p>Phoenix swallowed hard and tried to put her proposal out of his mind. The last thing he wanted was to go through… <em> that </em> again, but he couldn’t argue. He couldn’t think of an alternative.</p><p>If he lost this trial and the Professor got convicted…</p><p>“…this had better go well,” he said under his breath, and tried to ignore Luke’s eyes powering into the side of his head.</p><p>Trucy gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and Phoenix’s heart dropped in the knowledge that by the time this fiasco was over, she was probably going to be even more disappointed in him than she already was.</p><p>“Ms Skellig,” said the judge, “is your witness prepared to testify?”</p><p>“She is, Uncle Angus,” Michaela replied, “but I must remind the court that as a woman recently widowed, she will require a degree more care and thoughtfulness than the defence may be accustomed to treating witnesses with.”</p><p>She turned her seemingly blind gaze to Phoenix, who had a feeling that in spite of her eyes still apparently being closed, she was giving him a <em> very </em> dirty look.</p><p>“I must therefore ask the court to show her a certain degree of consideration,” she continued, “and not ask any untoward questions that may cause her unnecessary distress.”</p><p>She wasn’t blind, was she? Even blind people didn’t just walk around with their eyes closed all the time, and she always turned in the direction of whoever she was talking to…</p><p>“Of course, my dear,” said the judge, and he too gave Phoenix a look so pointed it almost scratched him. “Does the defence have any response?”</p><p>Phoenix shrugged.</p><p>“Whatever,” he responded.</p><p>He didn’t see, but he had a feeling Luke was rolling his eyes.</p><p>The judge, meanwhile, looked around the makeshift courtroom in bafflement.</p><p>“…and it would seem that is all he has to say on the matter,” Michaela spoke up. “Very well, then; the prosecution hereby calls Mrs Nosetta Oldfart to the witness stand.”</p><p>Phoenix looked down again as his daughter tugged on his sleeve.</p><p>“You aren’t going to be mean to her, are you, Daddy?” she whispered.</p><p>Phoenix gave another shrug.</p><p>“Depends on if she’s guilty or not,” he pointed out. “With how she behaved yesterday, I’m interested to know how her husband’s death might have affected her.”</p><p>He gave the visibly annoyed Luke a frown.</p><p>“Don’t expect me to go easy on her if it’s made her even worse,” he said.</p><p>Luke’s jaw fell in shock.</p><p>“Mr Wright, you…” he whispered, unable to finish his sentence due to the level of his disgust.</p><p>What the heck had him so angry right now? Was it the fact that Trucy had come up with an escape method for the Professor and Phoenix was doing his best to shoot it down? Or was it that they were going to have to antagonise a very recent widow?</p><p>Well, if he didn’t like this, there wasn’t much Phoenix could do about it, and he straightened up and turned back to the court.</p><p>“Let’s just get to it, alright?” he said to shut the boy up.</p><p>Their witness was already at the ‘stand’ by the time he turned back to it. She was wearing her big coat of feathery down again, but now clutched her elbows with her head bowed and her eyes swollen and red. There wasn’t a sign of her cigarette holder anywhere to be seen.</p><p>She’d broken it yesterday, hadn’t she?</p><p>But Phoenix couldn’t avoid the feeling that there was some ulterior motive to her being without it.</p><p>“Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself to the court once again, my friend?” asked Michaela.</p><p>Mrs Oldfart looked up at the prosecution and hugged herself tighter. Her eyes wandered across the room to the defence, where Phoenix was making sure to keep up his best, most impassive poker face, and then she looked away again with a long, exhausted sigh.</p><p>“I am…” Her voice was soft and strained. “I’m Nosetta Oldfart. My friends, erm…” She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders. “…my friends call me Nosie.”</p><p>Phoenix could practically feel the sympathy pouring out of every facet of the courtroom, and he pressed his tongue between his back teeth to keep from speaking up about it.</p><p>“Thank you for giving your time to the court today, Nosie,” said the judge, clearly more gentle than he had spoken since the start of the trial. “I understand that this must be a very difficult time for you, and you have my understanding if this gets too much for you. Let us know if there comes a point where you feel as though you need to step down.”</p><p>Nosie bowed her head again with a rattling sniff.</p><p>“Thank you,” she replied.</p><p>If she was just acting, this was an award-worthy performance.</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Phoenix muttered, “she is <em> not </em>happy to be here.”</p><p>“Can you blame her?” asked Luke. “Her husband died last night!”</p><p>“And the question,” said Phoenix, “is how much she knows about it.”</p><p>He turned his attention to Trucy, who was glaring so hard at their new witness that she threatened to set the woman’s coat on fire.</p><p>“It’s hard to tell when she isn’t talking,” she reported. “There isn’t anything for me to see.”</p><p>Phoenix reassured her with a pat on the top of her hat.</p><p>“Right,” he said. “Then let’s get her talking.”</p><p>He turned back to the stand just in time to see Nosie pocket a handkerchief.</p><p>“Could you please tell us everything that happened last night, Mrs Oldfart?” asked Michaela, mirroring the judge’s gentle tone. “We need to know as much as we can concerning the actions your husband followed in the hours leading up to his unfortunate passing.”</p><p>Nosie sniffed again and wiped her eyes on her finger.</p><p>“Yes, of course,” she said. “I understand.”</p><p>Another tug on Phoenix’s sleeve made him look down again.</p><p>“Please try not to be too mean, Dad,” Trucy begged.</p><p>The pleading in her big blue eyes was almost enough to make Phoenix change his mind altogether.</p><p>“I will,” he assured her, leaning in so that the prosecution couldn’t overhear. “I’ll hold off until I have some more info. I don’t want to go whole hog on intimidating her if it turns out I’m wrong.”</p><p>“And if you’re ri…” For some reason, Luke cut himself off. “I mean, if you’re correct?”</p><p>Judging by that look he still had on his face, he had changed the wording to prevent Phoenix from making some horrible pun regarding his name.</p><p>“What else?” Phoenix resisted a smile at that realisation. “We go on the offensive.”</p><p>“Very well, Auntie Nosie,” Michaela said as Phoenix straightened up again, “you may begin.”</p><p>Phoenix snatched his pencil out of his pocket and fumbled his journal open to its next blank page. Well, mostly blank. His notes on this testimony were going to have to share space with his attempt at a photorealistic eye drawn in one corner.</p><p>Although, with all of the accusing looks he’d been receiving recently, that seemed oddly appropriate.</p><p>Nosie gathered her coat’s feathers into her fingers and clutched the soft down as tight as she could.</p><p>“After yesterday’s trial,” she began, “Wrenkley and I spent the rest of our day in our home. He fed our chickens and changed their water, just like he always did in the afternoon.”</p><p>She took a deep, shuddering breath.</p><p>“Just before dinner, he told me he had to go to the grocer’s,” she explained, “and I didn’t think anything of it. I put his dinner in the oven to keep warm until he came back, but…”</p><p>She drew her handkerchief again and sniffed as she wiped her nose.</p><p>“…but he didn’t. I had no idea something had happened to him until Officer Poe came to my door.”</p><p>The entire room was silent by the time she had finished talking.</p><p>Phoenix didn’t look up until he had finished scribbling as many details as he could squeeze into the width of this page, and when he did, he saw that the judge had his head bowed in the same sadness as the witness.</p><p>“I understand,” he said solemnly. “The court wishes condolences for your loss, Nosie.”</p><p>Nosie looked up with a gulp and blinked tears out of her eyes.</p><p>“Thank you,” she responded.</p><p>“Excuse me, Your Honour?” Michaela spoke up. “Given their behaviour yesterday, as I said, I am concerned that the defence may upset the witness with unnecessary cruelty in their questioning.”</p><p>Phoenix leaned back on his heels, adopting the most casual stance he could.</p><p>“I know, Ms Skellig,” he said. “I’ll try to be nice.”</p><p>“You had better, Mr Wright,” the judge said sternly. “I shan’t look kindly upon you or your co-counsels if I hear any rudeness towards Mrs Oldfart. That in mind, you may begin your cross-examination.”</p><p>“Okay, okay…”</p><p>Thank god he hadn’t doodled on the next page yet. There was plenty of space for all the notes he’d have to take.</p><p>It was difficult not to waste space by writing down his thoughts as well.</p><p>So the first statement had been about the witness and the victim staying at home…</p><p>“Your house is at the end of the street at the bottom of this hill, right?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes,” Nosie replied sharply. “Just take a look at that map you got yesterday if you must.”</p><p>She had claimed that the two of them had been at home all afternoon, but that didn’t mean they had been alone, did it?</p><p>He tapped his pencil on his journal as he rolled that claim around in his head, wondering what string of words he should use to gain information without hitting any of Nosie’s sore spots.</p><p>“Did anybody come to visit you prior to the murder?” he asked.</p><p>“No. Nobody.” Nosie spat the words as though they had burned her tongue. “Wrenkley and I were alone. If you really think it’s necessary to ask like you did yesterday, we were going to have steak and kidney pie with mashed potatoes and steamed carrots for our dinner.”</p><p>“Oh, that sounds <em> nice</em>,” sighed Luke.</p><p>“Does it?” Trucy asked nervously. “I don’t know about eating kidneys, even in a pie.”</p><p>“Trust me, Trucy,” said Luke. “What Mrs Oldfart just described was a <em> delicious </em> meal.”</p><p>Phoenix bit back the question he wanted to ask about what animal the kidneys in this pie came from.</p><p>“Was your husband acting strange at all during the course of the afternoon or the evening?” he asked instead.</p><p>“He seemed fine,” Nosie said flatly. “Perhaps a little calmer than usual. More tired. Given that stunt he pulled yesterday morning, that doesn’t surprise me.”</p><p>That seemed important enough to make a note about. Phoenix scrawled ‘victim was calm prior to death’ in the neatest handwriting he could force himself to use.</p><p>“And he fed and watered the chickens?” he read aloud from his notes. “Around what time would you say that was?”</p><p>Nosie clutched her coat again, humming in thought.</p><p>“I think it was around 4pm,” she replied. “The hens get moody if they aren’t fed at least twice a day.”</p><p>Phoenix found himself thinking back to the few times he’d seen chickens being farmed. There was a coop somewhere in Kurain Village, from what he could recall – it was hard to ship fresh food that far out into the mountains – and the chickens there had drunk from… it was a pot, wasn’t it? Some kind of shallow pot carved from wood.</p><p>His eyes wandered to the windows above their prosecutor’s head. It was snowing again. The sight would be calming if it wasn’t for their current circumstances.</p><p>“Was it difficult to change the water?” he asked. “With weather like this, I can only imagine it’d been frozen solid.”</p><p>“We use a dripper with its own little heating system,” said Nosie. “I wouldn’t dream of forcing our hens to eat ice.”</p><p>Her attitude was very testy, Phoenix noted. Every sentence she spoke was like she was spitting it through her teeth. Perhaps it would be a good idea to try to calm things down a little. Ease her suffering, so to speak, with some casual conversation.</p><p>“It sounds to me like you guys had a very normal afternoon,” Phoenix commented. “Did you help with the chickens? Feeding? Collecting eggs?”</p><p>“No,” snapped Nosie. “Wrenkley took care of everything.”</p><p>“You seem like a very intelligent and capable woman, Mrs Oldfart,” Luke told her. “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle things on your own.”</p><p>In spite of his attempts at comfort, Nosie pulled out her handkerchief again.</p><p>“Yes,” she said, her voice more strained than ever. “On my own.”</p><p>She pressed the handkerchief to her nose and blew. Hard. The sound was akin to a trumpeting elephant.</p><p>“Oh dear.” Phoenix glanced over at Luke just in time to see him recoiling in horror. “I think I made things worse!”</p><p>“It’s okay, Luke,” Phoenix told him, and gave him a gentle nudge on the arm. “You didn’t mean to upset her. I think she understands.”</p><p>“Could you please not talk about me behind my back?!”</p><p>“O-of course!” Phoenix quickly turned back to the witness stand and cringed at the sight of Nosie’s furious glare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any offence! Let’s continue, okay, next point…”</p><p>Was that last part worth taking a note about?</p><p>Yes, Phoenix decided. It was. The victim had gone about his day as normal. That was definitely something to think about. ‘Normal day’ would be enough, right?</p><p>And after that, he’d headed to the store by himself…</p><p>“Did he mention why he was going to the grocery store?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>Nosie repocketed her handkerchief.</p><p>“He said we were out of milk,” she explained. “I didn’t think to check the fridge.”</p><p>Tapping on his journal again, Phoenix couldn’t help but think that this seemed a rather trivial thing to go to the shops for. If he were to speak from experience, he would say it made more sense to wait until multiple things had run out and then go and get them all at once!</p><p>“Was he so desperate for milk that he couldn’t wait until the next morning?” he asked.</p><p>“But if he did, what would we put in our morning tea?!” Nosie demanded. “The only other option was powdered cream!”</p><p>“Eurgh, no,” said Luke. “No thank you. That sounds disgusting.”</p><p>“Coffee creamer in tea?” asked Trucy. “That sounds <em> wrong</em>.”</p><p>Phoenix tried to imagine it. That white powder being stirred into tea, no doubt piling up on the bottom into a disgusting creamer mush or gathering on top in a gross layer of scum…</p><p>“That sounds like a crime against nature,” he concluded. “But you didn’t think it was strange that he wanted to go to the store in the evening? Wouldn’t it be closed?”</p><p>Nosie sighed and rolled her eyes.</p><p>“I wouldn’t expect an American to understand the idea of a shop being open into the evening,” she said, not bothering for a moment to hide her annoyance. “What if you needed fresh eggs for your breakfast but had used them all up for your lunch or dinner?”</p><p>It didn’t take a master detective to figure out the problem with that statement.</p><p>“I don’t know if that’s a problem for a <em> chicken </em> farmer,” he pointed out.</p><p>“Mr Wright, <em> please</em>.”</p><p>Luke took a step forward and paused just long enough to shoot a scowl in Phoenix’s direction.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart,” he said, “did your husband tell you how long he was going to take?”</p><p>“Arkwright and Granville’s is just up the street!” snapped Nosie. “Even a man of Wrenkley’s age would have no difficulty walking only fifty bloody metres!”</p><p>“Alright!” Luke backed away from their bench, hands raised in surrender. “Alright, okay! I’m sorry!”</p><p>“So you should be,” Nosie spat.</p><p>Luke’s grimace just about summed up Phoenix’s mood at that moment. Well, not so much that moment as the past few months, but it was appropriate either way.</p><p>“Wow,” he breathed, “and here I thought it would be <em> me </em> who stepped in it.”</p><p>“Don’t make fun of me!” whined Luke. “I’m really nervous about this!”</p><p>“Hey, if it helps, I am too,” Phoenix told him.</p><p>“Me three,” said Trucy, and she grabbed her father’s jacket again. “I really hope those cops don’t get called back!”</p><p>Phoenix patted her on top of her hat again. He didn’t know how much comfort it provided, but it was the best he could do.</p><p>“Agreed,” he said. “Let’s move on and try not to say anything else that might upset Mrs Oldfart.”</p><p>“Given her frail state of mind,” Luke cringed, “I don’t know if I want to guess how difficult that will be.”</p><p>After giving him another gentle nudge, Phoenix made a note in his journal about the reason Wrenkley Oldfart had left his house. He still had no idea how important all of this would turn out to be, but he’d found that it was a good idea to pay attention to as much as possible.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart…” he began.</p><p>Perhaps it would be better to try to keep things casual? That usually helped the witnesses stay calm while testifying.</p><p>The stand was a scary place, after all.</p><p>A place where somehow, even more than the defence bench, it felt as though the eyes of the world were bearing down on you, scrutinising you, judging you, crucifying you with their gaze no matter how much you pleaded with the court, no matter how much you insisted you were innocent, that you didn’t do anything wrong, that you didn’t forge a single goddamn <em> thing </em>-</p><p>No.</p><p>Phoenix took a deep breath. No. He couldn’t. Not now. This wasn’t the time for it.</p><p>Later. He’d have plenty of time to collapse later.</p><p>He couldn’t do this in the middle of the courtroom. <em> Not again</em>.</p><p>“Can I call you Nosie?” he asked, hoping that nobody had noticed that lapse.</p><p>Nosie shot another glare at him.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>After another deep breath, Phoenix feigned a casual shrug.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart it is,” he concluded. “Could you please-”</p><p>“If you must,” Nosie interrupted, “you may call me Nosetta.”</p><p>Okay then. Progress.</p><p>“Right,” Phoenix sighed. “Nosetta, how long had your husband been gone before you realised something was wrong?”</p><p>Mrs Oldfart squeezed her downy coat. Her thin fingers were almost imperceptible in the depths of the feathers.</p><p>“It, erm…” She cast her eyes down at the floor. “It took a while. I knew that he likely had a little trouble finding his way, what with the weather turning the way it did. His joints would always ache whenever the wind blew in from the east.”</p><p>The snow outside seemed light and gentle. No east wind today.</p><p>“How long did it typically take him to get to the grocery store?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>Were her fingers twitching?</p><p>“Well…” She sniffed again. “Most of the time, I was with him to help him when he was getting tired. He didn’t often go by himself. Only when we desperately needed something… like milk…”</p><p>She whipped out her handkerchief and blew her nose again.</p><p>“He never took longer than twenty minutes,” she explained.</p><p>“Wow,” said Trucy, “that’s a long time for a place just down the street!”</p><p>“Keep in mind that he was over seventy years old,” Luke pointed out. “I know we didn’t see him much, but he certainly looked quite frail.”</p><p>“Not frail enough to avoid being a lying jerk,” Phoenix quietly commented.</p><p>Maybe it was wrong to speak ill of the dead, but when said dead had played ill not twenty-four hours prior and wasted hours of everybody’s time, it felt like some leeway was allowed.</p><p>“So you didn’t think to accompany him to the store?” he asked.</p><p>“I assumed he would be fine by himself!” cried Nosie, hugging herself even tighter. “He’d been fine before! I didn’t have any reason to think he would do anything other than go to the shop and come straight back!”</p><p>She seemed pretty worked up by now. Maybe it would be a good idea to ease off a little.</p><p>Phoenix made a note of Mr Oldfart’s movements. This, more than anything, would definitely turn out to be important.</p><p>“So how long had your husband been gone by the time the officer showed up?” he asked.</p><p>“It was, erm…” Nosie nestled into the depths of her coat. “I can’t be sure. I wasn’t paying a great deal of attention to the time.”</p><p>Her fingers were twitching, weren’t they? It wasn’t just Phoenix’s imagination.</p><p>“As I’d said,” she went on, “he tended to take a while when he was by himself.”</p><p>“Can you tell us what he said to you before he left?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>Nosie swallowed. If she was as innocent as she seemed, then her hesitation was more than understandable.</p><p>She was basically being asked to think about the last time she’d seen her husband alive.</p><p>“…just that we were out of milk,” she managed to say, “and he was headed to Arkwright and Granville’s to get some more.”</p><p>“That was all?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>And that lined up with the idea that he had been calm up until that point. Everything seemed to make sense so far.</p><p>“Do you think it’s possible that he may have encountered anyone on his way to the shop?” Phoenix asked her.</p><p>“Well, obviously he did!” Nosie snapped. “How else could he have been killed? He didn’t just drop dead from a heart attack!”</p><p>“And it’s clear that he didn’t die on his way home,” added Luke, “or else we would probably have found a bottle of milk at the scene.”</p><p>“But he didn’t die there, remember?” Trucy piped up.</p><p>So that raised the question of if he made it to the store or not. If not, then where on earth did he go?</p><p>If it was somewhere else, had it been because he was distracted? Because somebody had called him over?</p><p>Or was it because he had never intended to go to the store in the first place?</p><p>“Yeah, that’s right,” said Phoenix, tapping his eraser again. “Thanks for the reminder, Truce.”</p><p>“Mr Wright?” he heard Luke say. “What are you thinking?”</p><p>Phoenix lowered his pencil and slapped his open journal, pages down, on the desk.</p><p>“Nosetta,” he said solidly.</p><p>“Yes?” Nosie responded fearfully.</p><p>“Are you sure your husband was really going to the store for milk?”</p><p>Nosie’s mouth fell open in surprise.</p><p>“Huh?” She blinked at him. “What do you me- What are you implying?!”</p><p>“Please bear with me for a moment, Nosetta,” Phoenix said as calmly as he could. “How much does a bottle of milk from…”</p><p>What had they said it was called?</p><p>“Armstrong and Grand Line?” he tried. “Is that the name?”</p><p>“Arkwright and Granville’s!” shouted someone in the gallery.</p><p>“The shop’s called Arkwright and Granville’s!” called someone else.</p><p>“Tell him the opening times!”</p><p>“9am to 8pm on weekdays, 10am to 7pm on Saturdays and closing at 6pm on Sundays-”</p><p>A third voice in the gallery shushed the shouting, and Phoenix felt a sudden twinge of amusement when he saw that it was Angela who turned back to face the court looking incredibly grumpy.</p><p>“Sorry!” called the first voice.</p><p>“Should’ve just said open all hours!” added the second.</p><p>Angela whipped around to shush them again.</p><p>With how smugly she had been smirking at Phoenix, it was really quite satisfying to see her annoyed.</p><p>“Most hours!” came a final hoarse whisper. “Sorry!”</p><p>Phoenix bit his tongue again to keep himself from laughing.</p><p>“Okay,” he said. “How much does a bottle of milk cost?”</p><p>Nosie cast him another brief glare.</p><p>“We have to get it shipped up from a town just outside the mountains,” she explained, “so it’s not cheap. Around £3.50 per pint.”</p><p>“My word!” Phoenix heard Layton gasp from his seat.</p><p>“That’s…” Luke rapidly counted on his fingers. “That’s a lot for a bottle of milk. She said it was per pint, but even if it was more, that’s a lot! That’s four-and-a-half dollars for half a litre!”</p><p>“What?” Even Trucy was taken aback. “Just for <em> milk?!</em>”</p><p>“Yikes,” Phoenix hissed, and he hoped Jack wouldn’t charge him for the milk they’d had on their cereal that morning. “Nosetta, did your husband use a wallet?”</p><p>Nosie hugged her arms again.</p><p>“He had a coin purse,” she replied. “Green. Suede.”</p><p>“Did he take it with him when he left?” Phoenix asked, even though he already knew the answer.</p><p>“I…” Nosie’s eyes wandered around the courtroom. “I can’t recall.”</p><p>“And he never pocketed his money?” asked Phoenix, wondering how far he could push this bluff. “He always used his coin purse?”</p><p>“Yes, of course!” Nosie spat.</p><p>“I’m very curious to know what you are intending to imply, Mr Wright,” Michaela spoke up. “What does the method by which Uncle Wrenkley carriage his coinage have to do with this case?”</p><p>To think that in all the excitement, Phoenix had almost forgotten she was there. If only he could be so fortunate.</p><p>“It’s simple, Ms Skellig,” he told her. “Since Nosetta told us about her husband’s reason for leaving her home, we’ve all been operating under the assumption that she was correct, but – and I’m very sorry to tell you this, Mrs Oldfart – you haven’t provided any solid evidence to suggest that was actually Wrenkley’s intention when he left his home last night.”</p><p>His implication sparked a muttering in the gallery.</p><p>“Oooh, interesting!” Michaela somehow had the gall to coo and smile at Phoenix’s statements.</p><p>“Wh- huh?” Nosie’s head whipped around as she searched for an explanation. “But why else would he have gone out last night?!”</p><p>Phoenix glanced at the folder Dr Wallace had provided them with.</p><p>“Thanks to the testimonies of Dr Wallace and Officers Poe,” he told the witness, “we have been able to deduce that the scene where Wrenkley Oldfart’s body was found was not the site of his death. Dr Wallace especially was rather helpful in showing that his attacker was a person he trusted.”</p><p>“Oh, now I understand!” he heard Luke say. “You think he went out to go and meet with his killer!”</p><p>Nosie stared at the defence bench in slack jawed horror.</p><p>“…and…” she gasped. “…and I did nothing to stop him?”</p><p>Out came the handkerchief again.</p><p>“Please refrain from blaming yourself for this terrible event, Mrs Oldfart,” Michaela said in some no-doubt twisted attempt at kindness, “as there is no possible way that you could have known what would happen when your husband left home last night. You are not responsible for Uncle Wrenkley’s horrific death.”</p><p>After trumpeting her nose again, Nosie narrowed her eyes at the defendant’s chair.</p><p>“No,” she said, glaring as hard as she could. “No, I’m <em> not</em>.”</p><p>“But neither is the Professor!” cried Luke.</p><p>“Then who is, you little brat?” Nosie’s shouting sprayed spittle across the floor. “If it wasn’t the man found looming over my husband’s corpse with a knife in his hand, then who DID kill my Wrenkley?!”</p><p>The question slammed into Phoenix like a runaway freight train.</p><p>“Huh?” said Luke.</p><p>“A knife?” Phoenix repeated what she had said in his best attempt to process it. “Where the heck did <em> that </em> come from?”</p><p>“I didn’t say anything about a knife,” said Trucy. “Did <em> you </em> mention a knife?”</p><p>“No!” Luke replied sharply. “No, I didn’t!”</p><p><em> Now </em> they were getting somewhere.</p><p>“Nosetta,” said Phoenix, “can you please tell us where you heard about the Professor holding a knife when he was discovered?”</p><p>In mere moments, all of Nosie Oldfart’s vigour had vanished. She shrank into her coat again as if trying to hide from the court.</p><p>“…erm…” Again her eyes were flying around the room. “…w-well, you see…”</p><p>“This is important, Mrs Oldfart,” Phoenix said as sternly as he dared. “You need to tell us where you got this information from. Who told you the Professor was holding a knife?”</p><p>“Objection.”</p><p>Ah, so the prosecution wanted to speak, did she?</p><p>“If she is to tell the court this information,” said Michaela, playing with her hair again, “then she should do so in the form of testimony, as is her purpose for having come here in the first place, so Auntie Nosie, if you would be so kind?”</p><p>Again, even though her eyes seemed to be closed, it appeared as though she was giving a very pointed look to the witness stand.</p><p>“Y-yes… yes, I…” Nosie stammered. “…I suppose I could…”</p><p>Before Phoenix had a chance to speak again, another set of hands latched onto his arm and the elder of his co-counsels pulled him down for a more private conversation.</p><p>“Please be careful, Mr Wright,” Luke whispered, and he looked to his side at where the rest of the village was seated. “I have a feeling that Mrs Oldfart won’t be the only one upset with you if you antagonise her too much.”</p><p>Phoenix looked around as subtly as he could.</p><p>The eyes of the gallery were firmly fixed on the defence. He could still see Angela in there, no longer smiling but still very clearly watching him. Her steely grey eyes were piercing and venomous.</p><p>“You’d better watch yourself too,” Phoenix responded.</p><p>“How dare you!” Luke whispered. “A gentleman never upsets a lady!”</p><p>Phoenix raised his eyebrows at the boy. He hoped he wouldn’t have to speak to remind him of what had happened less than an hour ago.</p><p>Sure enough, Luke grimaced again.</p><p>“…not deliberately, at least,” he said weakly.</p><p>With that, Phoenix shook himself out of Luke’s grip.</p><p>He picked up his journal and pencil and got ready to start writing again.</p><p>“I heard that Professor Layton bastard was found standing over my husband’s body,” Nosie explained. “Not only that, but Wrenkley was…”</p><p>She shivered in horror.</p><p>“He had been stabbed!” she exclaimed. “Stabbed in the neck! The officers arrested that man on the spot, didn’t they? Right out there in the snow? Of course I would’ve assumed he was still holding the murder weapon when they happened across him! What other reason could they have for suspecting that… that <em> monster?!</em>”</p><p>Her finger shuddered as she pointed at the seat where the Professor had been forced to watch his trial. Phoenix took a quick, curious look at the man and found him hiding his face under the hat he was pulling down by the brim.</p><p>Thank goodness this wasn’t one of the more fiery clients Phoenix had dealt with in the past. Were he anything like Larry, being called a monster would’ve caused a rather contemptuous outburst.</p><p>“I see,” said the judge. “Thank you for explaining, Nosie.”</p><p>Nosie hugged her arms again with a huff.</p><p>“So there was no knife,” Luke concluded, cupping his chin in a very Professor-like manner. “She’d just convinced herself there was a knife based on what she’d heard about the crime. And she tried to pass it off as a fact? She tried to push that in a court of law?!”</p><p>He stared at Phoenix, obviously desperate for an explanation.</p><p>“Testimony 101, Luke,” Phoenix told him, which probably wasn’t the reassurance he was looking for but what the hell. “Regardless of whether it could be considered perjury, contempt of court or whatever the heck name you want to give it, witnesses will push their luck as often as they goddamn can.”</p><p>“Are we sure she isn’t just confused?” asked the ever-innocent Trucy. “I’m sure she didn’t actually mean to make a proper claim like that!”</p><p>“I’m not,” said Phoenix. “We can’t be sure until we have everything.”</p><p>Beside him, Luke plunged his hands into his pockets, looking like all he wanted was to shrink and hide under the defence bench.</p><p>“Why do I get the feeling we’re going to be forced to make a decision long before we have everything?” he asked fearfully.</p><p>“Luke,” said Phoenix, “in this line of work, you’ll spend so long on the edge of your seat that you’ll break the front legs. Whether you want to be pushed off or not isn’t up to you.”</p><p>Luke stared at him in obvious bafflement.</p><p>“What does that even mean?!” he squeaked.</p><p>“It means you’ve got to roll with the punches, alright?” snapped Phoenix. “Though you’ve got to be careful. Never know when that rolling’s going to leave you in the dust.”</p><p>Now the hapless Luke turned to Trucy.</p><p>“Trucy,” he said, “can you tell your dad to start making sense?”</p><p>“Why?” asked Trucy. “I thought he was pretty clear!”</p><p>“If the defence has finished their discussion…”</p><p>Phoenix looked over at the judge and almost winced. To call the olive-skinned man’s glare withering couldn’t possibly have done it justice. If looks could kill, this man would be guilty of triple homicide.</p><p>Phoenix, for his part, prayed that his hat hid the sweat no doubt beading on his burning forehead.</p><p>“Sorry, Your Honour,” he said, and wanted to punch himself for being so awkward.</p><p>The judge shook his head. He didn’t seem angry so much as disappointed, but that was somehow worse.</p><p>“If you three are done,” he sighed, “you may begin your cross-examination. I should hope I don’t have to remind any of you to be respectful towards the witness.”</p><p>“Of course,” Phoenix replied.</p><p>He checked the notes he had scribbled during the testimony and pulled up his most professional poker face.</p><p>“Calling the Professor a bastard is a little bit harsh, don’t you think?” he asked.</p><p>“Harsh?!” cried Nosie. “He killed my husband! How harsh do you think Wrenkley would say it was?!”</p><p>“I believe that if he was here to talk to us about his death,” Michaela spoke up, “Uncle Wrenkley would not have kind words for his murderer, or indeed, for his suspected murderer.”</p><p>A murder victim speaking in the courtroom, huh? If only.</p><p>“Now I wish we had Maya with us,” Phoenix groaned. “I’m sure she could help us clear all this up.”</p><p>“Mmm, I’m not sure about that,” said Trucy. “Do you really think Mr Oldfart would cooperate with us if he was brought back here?”</p><p>Luke had his face in one hand, shaking his head.</p><p>“This is completely insane,” he breathed. “I can’t believe you guys are talking about bringing <em> ghosts </em> to a trial!”</p><p>“He was discovered beside Wrenkley’s body,” Nosie added. “What in the world was I supposed to believe when I heard about that?!”</p><p>Phoenix cleared his throat, trying to put his bubbly young friend out of his mind before his heart could break at the thought of her absence.</p><p>“For the sake of clarification,” he said, “I believe I should point out that he was kneeling, not standing over your husband-”</p><p>“What the hell does it matter?!” Nosie screamed. “He was right there at the scene, standing over a body and there was nobody else around! It’s <em> obvious </em> he’s the guilty one!”</p><p>She pointed her quivering finger at Layton again. Layton, for his part, still remained silent.</p><p>A tap on Phoenix’s shoulder turned him to face his elder co-counsel.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” Luke leaned in to whisper. “I have a feeling Mrs Oldfart wasn’t here for Dr Wallace or the police officer’s testimonies.”</p><p>Phoenix ran his fingers over his chin.</p><p>It was true that she seemed rather in the dark regarding information about the crime scene and the investigation thereof. The fact that she thought the murder weapon was a <em> knife </em> when Dr Wallace had suggested a knitting needle made that rather clear.</p><p>“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he responded, “but I’d like to learn more about this mental narrative she’s written for herself about her husband’s murder. Though I can’t say I blame her for wanting everything to be simple and straightforward. I know I do.”</p><p>As if that could even be possible. The story of Phoenix Wright’s life was fraught with only the most bizarre, complicated trials money could buy.</p><p>Not that he ever got to see much of that money…</p><p>For the sake of looking busy, he wrote ‘Layton’s parents prob. married, prof not illegitimate’ in his journal.</p><p>“Can you please tell us how you learned about the nature of your husband’s death?” he asked.</p><p>Once again, Nosie tried to withdraw into the depths of her coat.</p><p>“It was…” She wiped one of her bloodshot eyes on the back of her hand. “It was Officer Poe. He came to our house and told me what had happened. He was very detailed and…” She sniffed. “…very gentle in his explanation.”</p><p>“One of those creepy guys was <em> gentle?!</em>” muttered Trucy.</p><p>“He told me…” Nosie took a deep breath. “He told me that…”</p><p>Her handkerchief came out again.</p><p>“He told me that Wrenkley had died and the circumstances were suspicious,” she explained. “That the cause of death appeared to be a…” She trumpeted her nose into her handkerchief again. “…a fatal stab wound to the neck… and he told me that a suspect had been apprehended and they were in the process of investigating and interrogating him.”</p><p>Another nose blow. That handkerchief was beginning to look rather gross.</p><p>“Wow, that <em> is </em> detailed,” Luke commented. “Is it bad that I think that’s a bit too much detail? I don’t think it’s a good idea for a police officer to reveal that much about the case when it’s in its earliest stages, especially to a murder victim’s wife!”</p><p>“I was actually rather grateful to him for his explanations,” said Nosie, clenching her handkerchief in her fists. “I want to know as much as I can. I want to know that my husband is going to get justice! I want to know that the Painted King shall strike his killer down in fire and blood!”</p><p>Her breath hissed through her bared teeth.</p><p>Well, <em> that </em> was a big fat yikes.</p><p>“I understand, Mrs Oldfart,” Phoenix said instead of pointing out how freaky she was behaving. “So you didn’t know anything prior to the officer’s arrival?”</p><p>“No!” cried Nosie. “No, I didn’t! I just assumed that Wrenkley’s hip was acting up again and slowing him down! It was a cold night, Mr Wright! Cold enough to snow!”</p><p>Phoenix glanced up at the window again. It was still snowing outside.</p><p>“I noticed,” he said bluntly.</p><p>“Nevertheless,” said Luke, “I can’t help thinking the officer was jumping the gun a little. Had the Professor even been officially arrested by that point?”</p><p>“They said they arrested him after questioning, didn’t they?” asked Trucy, tapping on her chin. “Maybe he was by then? I don’t know how long they took.”</p><p>“But it’s still within the same night!” Luke pointed out. “That’s <em> far </em> too soon!”</p><p>“Luke, you’ll hate me for saying this,” said Phoenix, “but the victim’s next of kin has the right to know the circumstances of their death.”</p><p>Luke pocketed his hands again with a scowl.</p><p>“I don’t hate <em> you </em> for that, Mr Wright,” he grumbled. “I just hate that I can’t disagree with you.”</p><p>In any case, it was worth making a note about this stuff, so Phoenix made a note about the method by which Nosie had apparently learned of her husband’s death.</p><p>Luke definitely had a point. It <em> was </em> odd that the police would reveal details like those so soon after the crime had been discovered. That sort of thing usually took at least half a day, didn’t it?</p><p>So that raised the question of whether Nosie was being honest or not…</p><p>“Nosetta, I’d like you to clarify something for us,” Phoenix said. “Were you present for this trial’s first two witness testimonies?”</p><p>Nosie shot him an incredibly dirty look.</p><p>“No,” she said shortly. “I was at home. I was trying to organise all of Wrenkley’s belongings and I called our children in Glasgow to tell them what had happened.”</p><p>“Be not afraid, Auntie Nosie.” Michaela’s voice was calm and clear. “Mother and I shall be more than happy to aid you if you require assistance in putting your affairs in order and organising a funeral for Uncle Wrenkley. I am certain that I speak for the rest of the village in saying that we wish to give our dear chicken farmer a proper send-off.”</p><p>At the sound of this proposal, Nosie’s shoulders shook. Her entire coat quivered from the motion.</p><p>She was sobbing.</p><p>“…thank you…” she choked.</p><p>Out came the handkerchief again for another blaring trumpet.</p><p>“Hey!” hissed Phoenix. “I’ve been careful about upsetting her too much and the prosecution is allowed to just up and make her cry?”</p><p>“And somehow I get the feeling that if it was us,” said Luke, “it would turn the whole court against us. No, the whole <em> village </em> against us.”</p><p>“Hey, Daddy?” whispered Trucy. “Do you think maybe the people in this village just don’t like people from elsewhere?”</p><p>Phoenix could only think to respond with a shrug.</p><p>“Maybe,” he said. “It’d explain all the weird stares we got on our first day.”</p><p>He turned away from his co-counsels before any other members of the court had a chance to get suspicious.</p><p>“So Mrs Oldfart,” he said as the witness tried to clean herself up, “was your visit from Officer Poe last night your only source of information on this case?”</p><p>One last trumpet and the handkerchief was put away again.</p><p>“Yes,” Nosie spat bitterly. “Yes it was. Do you really think I wanted to be here? Do you really think I wanted to watch you despicable people make a mockery of my husband’s death?”</p><p>“We aren’t making a mockery of anything or anyone!” Luke argued back. “We’re just doing our jobs and-”</p><p>“You’re just a child!” snapped Nosie. “Don’t you DARE pretend you’re a qualified lawyer! I’ve had my suspicions about you too, Mr Wright! Are you really a defence attorney? You certainly don’t look like one! You look like you spent last night sleeping in a bloody landfill!”</p><p>Phoenix reinforced his poker face.</p><p>To show weakness here would spell the end of the trial.</p><p>“This isn’t what I would call an official court of law,” he pointed out. “It’s a town hall with a lectern, a few tables and a toffee hammer. That being said, does it <em> need </em> a licensed lawyer on either side?”</p><p>“My husband is dead!” Nosie shouted. “He deserves better than some vagrant and his children lying about his killer!”</p><p>Phoenix found himself scratching the back of his head with one end of his pencil. He could only hope that his face wasn’t as red as he feared it might be.</p><p>“Again, it pains me to say,” he said nervously, “but that’s fair. I’d say ‘too bad I’m not a vagrant’ but that depends on your point of view.”</p><p>“You shut it, Daddy!” He looked over at Trucy just in time to see her clench her fists. “You’re an upstanding pillar of the community and you know it!”</p><p>Her determined support wasn’t enough to keep Phoenix from cringing inwardly again.</p><p>“I’m a crappy pianist at a Russian restaurant,” he pointed out. “Not sure how ‘upstanding’ that makes me.”</p><p>He made a note of Nosie’s absence from the court. Something told him it would become more significant than anyone else in the room realised.</p><p>“So Nosetta,” he said, “am I to understand that Officer Poe was not your primary but, in fact, your <em> only </em> source of information regarding your husband’s death?”</p><p>Nosie shot him a look somehow dirtier than every look she’d shot him thus far.</p><p>“Yes,” she replied. “He was.”</p><p>“Dr Wallace conducted an examination of the body,” Phoenix pointed out. “You didn’t think to reach out to him for information?”</p><p>“No, Mr Wright,” said Nosie. “I did <em> not </em> think to ask a man I don’t trust about my husband’s decaying corpse.”</p><p>Phoenix almost winced at her phrasing.</p><p>“That’s fair,” he decided.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart, can you tell us why you believed that the murder weapon was a knife?” asked Luke, apparently picking up where Phoenix had left off. “And why did you believe the Professor had been holding it when he was caught?”</p><p>Nosie’s jaw fell slack again. A perfect picture of shock and horror that could only have been completed by a conveniently positioned couch to faint onto.</p><p>“I’d been told Wrenkley was stabbed!” she cried. “What do people stab each other with other than knives?! And of course I assumed he still had it with him! Why else would he have been apprehended? He was right there at the crime scene! It just makes sense!”</p><p>Another tug on Phoenix’s sleeve caused him to look down.</p><p>“Should we tell her why the doctor says it can’t have been a knife?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“No, we’ll hold off on that,” Phoenix told her. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to fill in a witness on details of a crime like that, especially when I can’t help thinking she knows more than she’s letting on.”</p><p>Movement in the corner of his eye drew his gaze to Luke, who was fiddling with one of the toggles on his coat.</p><p>“Mr Wright, I…” His whole demeanour was dripping with uncertainty. “I’m not sure if I like where you’re going with this.”</p><p>Phoenix glanced over at Nosie again. She was still shooting a very sour look at the defence, and given how they had been treating her so far, she could hardly be blamed for that.</p><p>“And you think I do?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>Luke’s fingers hesitated on his toggle, but then curled into a fist.</p><p>“With how you behaved about the Professor last night,” he said, “I honestly don’t know what to think.”</p><p>This was just how it was, wasn’t it? Any outside observer would think that Phoenix didn’t want to rest until he had turned the entire world against him.</p><p>Not that he could blame them.</p><p>He couldn’t help thinking it was exactly what he deserved.</p><p>But rather than telling Luke that, he turned back to the witness stand and made a show of checking his notes again.</p><p>“So Mrs Oldfart, if I’m interpreting your claims correctly,” he said, “you filled in the details you didn’t know about your husband’s death with your imagination and then stated it as fact in a court of law, correct?”</p><p>Nosie pulled her coat around her body. It seemed this latest question had rustled her somewhat.</p><p>“Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, I suppose I did. I didn’t plan on bringing it up as a topic during lunchtime conversation at the King’s Arms and I hope I don’t need to explain why to the likes of you.”</p><p>“No, Nosetta, you don’t,” Phoenix said as calmly as he could. “I understand your hesitation. However, we have a problem here.”</p><p>He resisted the urge to slam the desk, settling simply for laying down his journal again.</p><p>“You tried to pass off a fictitious claim as fact in a court of law,” he pointed out. “Do I even need to explain why that’s a bad thing to do?”</p><p>“W-what?!” Mrs Oldfart looked in dire need of a fainting couch.</p><p>“It’s perjury, Mrs Oldfart,” Phoenix explained in case she didn’t know. “It’s a crime.”</p><p>He couldn’t help himself. He slammed on the desk. If this didn’t emphasise his point, he didn’t know what would.</p><p>“You’ve just run the risk of invalidating your entire testimony!” he told not only the witness, but the court at large.</p><p>He could see Nosie’s fingers tightening on her arms. Yes, she was <em> very </em> shaken by the idea that her actions might actually have consequences.</p><p>“Objection.”</p><p>…or maybe they wouldn’t.</p><p>“I should think it’s clear by now,” Michaela said with that same smug little smirk, “that Mrs Oldfart is grief-stricken and confused from the trauma of not only learning that her husband was horrifically murdered, but also being forced to talk about said murder in a court of law, in front of a group of callous strangers <em> and </em> the man we believe to be responsible.”</p><p>She looked in the direction of the judge’s lectern.</p><p>“I would ask the court to please excuse any fallacies that Auntie Nosie may unknowingly try to pass off as fact due to said confusion,” she requested.</p><p>Phoenix didn’t hold back his grimace. The similarities between Michaela’s behaviour right now and that of a certain close friend of his were making his skin crawl even more than those goddamn twins ever did.</p><p>“I agree, Ms Skellig,” the judge replied. “However, I shall remind the witness to please refrain from speculation. As the prosecution stated earlier, the witness stand is to be reserved for cold, hard facts.”</p><p>He gave a stern look to the witness still positioned at the stand.</p><p>“You have our sympathies, Mrs Oldfart,” he told her, “but please keep that in mind.”</p><p>Nosie swallowed, blinking more tears away from her eyes.</p><p>“Of course,” she said weakly. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Phoenix made a show of writing notes about these latest happenings. Nobody else in the court needed to know that he had just written ‘witness obviously making stuff up as she goes along’ with a little angry face to punctuate the sentence.</p><p>Only one statement left to press…</p><p>“I think calling Professor Layton a ‘monster’ is a bit unfair when nothing’s been proven yet, don’t you?” he asked.</p><p>“You’re one to talk!” cried Luke.</p><p>“Hey, I didn’t call him any names,” Phoenix reminded him. “I just pointed out that I didn’t have enough information to form a solid opinion.”</p><p>Luke’s anger wilted away at that reminder.</p><p>“…fine,” he mumbled.</p><p>“For all I know, he killed my husband!” Nosie insisted, pulling out her handkerchief again. “What else am I supposed to think of him as?”</p><p>“A suspect, Nosetta,” said Phoenix. “That’s all he is for now. As I said, the court has yet to see any conclusive evidence regarding the Professor’s supposed guilt.”</p><p>“But there’s nobody else it could have been!” Nosie clutched her handkerchief to her chest. “He was the only one who was there before Wrenkley was even cold! If it wasn’t him, then who on earth else do you think it could have been? Are you going to say Dr Wallace decided to finish the job?!”</p><p>“Not by any means, Mrs Oldfart,” Phoenix replied calmly.</p><p>It wouldn’t be worth it to point out that Dr Wallace had been fully cleared of those accusations <em> she </em> had levelled against him, but she hadn’t realised just how revealing her testimony had turned out to be.</p><p>In particular, those claims about the ‘knife’ that had killed her husband were… <em> interesting. </em></p><p>“I believe there’s one more point that needs to be considered, Nosetta,” Phoenix said, “but there’s a question that I need to ask you before I bring it up.</p><p>Nosie sighed and rolled her eyes. For the briefest of moments, she seemed to almost have regained her attitude from yesterday.</p><p>“What do you mean?” she demanded.</p><p>“You’ve made it clear that you know your husband’s death was caused by a stab wound,” Phoenix pointed out, “from which you deduced that the murder weapon must have been a knife. Is that correct?”</p><p>“Please avoid harping on the same point over and over, Mr Wright,” said Michaela, “for we do <em> not </em> have all day, so if you have a conclusion to reach, please reach it as quickly as possible.”</p><p>Phoenix drew himself up to the fullest of his height.</p><p>“Of course, Ms Skellig,” he replied in his sternest voice.</p><p>He returned his attention to Mrs Oldfart, hoping that his face conveyed enough desire for an answer.</p><p>“Yes,” was what he received. “I assumed that since Wrenkley was stabbed, it was with a knife. That’s what people usually use for stabbing. Are you happy now?”</p><p>“Not quite, Nosetta,” said Phoenix, and he made a show of rubbing his stubbly chin again. “There’s something I’d like to know. Where’s your cigarette holder?”</p><p>Nosie’s eyes narrowed. Her jaw fell slack again and she took a step back, almost as though she was trying to keep her balance. For the first time since she had arrived on the stand, she looked genuinely taken aback.</p><p>“I beg your pardon?” she gasped.</p><p>“I’m just a little curious,” Phoenix said calmly. “You appear to have forgotten it today.”</p><p>“Hold it.”</p><p>This time, when he looked up at Michaela, she was wagging her finger at him. Yet another disturbingly familiar gesture that Phoenix sincerely hoped she wouldn’t do again.</p><p>“Mr Wright,” she said, “<em>you </em> appear to have forgotten that Auntie Nosie broke her cigarette holder yesterday, and I would think that should be considered a reasonable explanation for its absence on this day.”</p><p>Phoenix bit his tongue again. He wouldn’t do himself any favours by snapping.</p><p>“Ms Skellig, it’s a simple question,” he reminded her. “So simple that Mrs Oldfart shouldn’t have any trouble answering it.”</p><p>“Why does my cigarette holder matter?!” cried Nosie.</p><p>“If it doesn’t, why don’t you tell us where it is?” asked Phoenix. “It shouldn’t be a problem for you.”</p><p>“It’s none of your business!” If this woman hugged her arms any harder, she was going to give herself some serious bruises. “How in the world could this possibly be relevant?!”</p><p>“If you tell us, then I would be happy to explain it.”</p><p>“M-my cigarette holder isn’t important!”</p><p>“I’d hardly call it an invasion of your privacy.”</p><p>“Objection.” Somehow the bickering had softened the commanding tone that Michaela had spoken with before. “Your Honour, you can clearly see that the defence is badgering the witness, can you not? I demand that Mr Wright’s question be disregarded and everything following it stricken from the record.”</p><p>She followed that up with another satisfied smile.</p><p>But to Phoenix’s amazement, the judge shook his head.</p><p>“My apologies, Michaela,” he said, “but he makes a good point. If there’s nothing wrong with Nosie’s cigarette holder, she shouldn’t have any trouble telling the court where it is.”</p><p>And now every eye in the room was firmly fixed on the thin woman who stood, shivering and tearful, at the witness stand.</p><p>“…I…” she choked. “…erm…”</p><p>“So you aren’t willing to tell us?” Phoenix asked before she could devolve into nothing but stammers.</p><p>“N-no!” Nosie snapped. “No, I am NOT willing!”</p><p>“Interesting,” said Phoenix. “Why not?”</p><p>“Be…” Her eyes tracked down to the floor. “…because…”</p><p>Only a few words and she’d been reduced to an absolute mess. Maybe it would be a good idea to cut her some slack before she dissolved completely and lost what few shreds were left of her coherency.</p><p>With that in mind, Phoenix shook his head.</p><p>“You don’t have to tell us, Mrs Oldfart,” he told her. “We’re no fools. It isn’t difficult to figure out why you don’t have it with you. When you broke it yesterday, that must have resulted in a very sharp point, correct?”</p><p>A few stray feathers drifted down from Nosie’s coat as she looked up at the defence.</p><p>“Yes, i-it did,” she managed to say. “I didn’t want to risk hurting myself on that point, so…”</p><p>She gulped almost painfully hard.</p><p>“…so I, erm…”</p><p>“What did you do with it, Nosetta?” Phoenix asked her, and he made sure he spoke loud and clear enough for the entire court to hear him. “What happened to that thin, sharp, sturdy metal rod that you took home with you and your husband yesterday?”</p><p>“M-Mr Wright!” the judge spluttered. “I’m not sure if I like what you’re insinuating!”</p><p>“Trust me, Your Honour,” said Phoenix. “I don’t like it either.”</p><p>“Could’ve fooled me.”</p><p>Phoenix turned his thinning patience to his co-counsel.</p><p>“Luke, if you have any other ideas, I would be <em> delighted </em> to hear them,” he said.</p><p>To nobody’s surprise, it didn’t take long for Luke’s determination to trickle away.</p><p>“…no, I…” he said softly. “…I don’t.”</p><p>Ugh, and then he had to go and look <em> sad </em> like that.</p><p>If he was going to be driven away so that he never had to look at Phoenix again, it could at least wait until after this trial was over, couldn’t it?</p><p>Phoenix sighed.</p><p>“I’ll try to go easy on her, alright?” he promised. “Trucy.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I want you to pay attention to Mrs Oldfart, alright?”</p><p>Trucy drew a short gasp as the gears in her mind whirred to life.</p><p>“I smell what you’re stepping in,” she said. “I’m on it!”</p><p>She fixed her wide-eyed gaze on the witness stand.</p><p>“Nosetta, we need as much information as possible,” said Phoenix. “Do you know something about your husband’s death?”</p><p>“No!” cried Nosie. “I told you, I don’t know anything!”</p><p>Only eight words. Would that be enough?”</p><p>“Truce?” Phoenix asked just to check.</p><p>Trucy hummed in thought, tapping on her chin in adorable accompaniment.</p><p>“Try again,” she said.</p><p>Phoenix leaned forward over the desk.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart,” he said as sternly as he dared, “are you <em> sure?</em>”</p><p>“Yes!” Nosie sounded like she could burst into tears again any moment. “I keep telling you, I know <em> nothing!</em>”</p><p>“Order!” The judge slammed his gavel on his lectern hard enough to make Phoenix’s head hurt. “Mr Wright, I must tell you to be more gentle! If you keep badgering the witness, I shall have to have you removed from this court!”</p><p>Phoenix pressed himself back with a sigh.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” he groaned. “Sorry.”</p><p>“I got it!”</p><p>Trucy looked back up at him with a fiery glint in her eye.</p><p>“When you ask her about if she knows anything, she twitches her fingers on her elbow!” she declared.</p><p>“Oh no…” Luke had definitely put all the pieces together by now. “Mr Wright, are you…”</p><p>A twang of guilt strained Phoenix’s heart at the sight of the teenager’s dawning horror.</p><p>Even though he’d known it was inevitable, it was still painful to watch someone grow to hate him.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Luke,” Phoenix told him, and could only pray that Luke realised how earnest he was.</p><p>The silence in the courtroom was crushing as he looked back to the witness.</p><p>“Mrs Oldfart,” he said, “I can’t help thinking that you aren’t being honest with the court.”</p><p>“W-what?!” Nosie’s eyes were wide and wild in fear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Phoenix said, “but I think you do. Your Honour, Ms Skellig…”</p><p>He slammed his hands on the desk to make sure they were listening.</p><p>“The defence wishes to indict Nosetta Oldfart for the murder of her husband!”</p><p>That did it.</p><p>The gallery clamoured like crazy no matter how much the mayor tried to shush them all. Their voices were hissing, grumbling, growing louder and louder with every passing second as they drowned each other out and tried to make themselves heard.</p><p>Nosie Oldfart, meanwhile, remained rooted to the spot. She clutched at her coat and her eyes darted every which way around her, wide and wild with terror. A deer in the headlights at its absolute finest.</p><p>Under any other circumstances, that sort of behaviour would have brought Phoenix a powerful sense of satisfaction.</p><p>But it didn’t.</p><p>She just looked small and scared.</p><p>Phoenix gritted his teeth. He got the feeling this wasn’t going to end well.</p><p>“Order!” The judge slammed his toffee hammer on the lectern as hard as he possibly could. “Order in the court!”</p><p>The shouting did nothing to quell the chatter. If anything, it only grew louder.</p><p>No, there was <em> no </em> way this could end well.</p><p>“Order! Order!” Not even nails on a chalkboard were as grating as that hammer. “I will have ORDER!”</p><p>Michaela, meanwhile, simply stood at her bench, coiling a lock of platinum blonde around her finger.</p><p>“Daddy, are you sure that was a good idea?” asked Trucy.</p><p>“You haven’t so much rocked the boat as set it on fire and rammed it into a cliff!” cried Luke.</p><p>“Again, do you have anything else to offer?” Phoenix demanded.</p><p>“I don’t, but-”</p><p>“<em>Objection</em>.”</p><p>Luke was cut off before he could even get halfway through whatever complaint he was going to make.</p><p>No, Michaela hadn’t spoken very loudly, but at the sound of her voice, the entire room fell silent. By the time all eyes had fallen upon her, the smile had slipped away from her face.</p><p>She leaned forward on her desk, and in spite of her still-closed eyes, Phoenix felt as though she was glaring like she had never glared before.</p><p>“Mr Wright,” she said softly, “I think it is high time you explained yourself. Unless you can provide substantial evidence to suggest that Auntie Nosie is the true killer, I shall have to ask that you withdraw your accusation immediately.”</p><p>Phoenix nodded. The less emotion he showed here, the better, lest she catch on and rip him to shreds in a single overly long sentence.</p><p>“Very well,” he said, and he made a show of stroking his chin again. “I’d like the court to consider Mrs Oldfart’s claims that she was at home, all by herself, for the entire duration of her husband’s time outside the house, all the way up to when Officer Poe came knocking on her door. I’m sure that if we were to bring the officers back to the stand, they would be happy to validate her claims, but up until that point, we have a substantial space of time where <em> nobody </em> can confirm her actions or whereabouts. In other words…”</p><p>He lowered his hand.</p><p>“She has no alibi.”</p><p>To his surprise, Michaela still didn’t smile. If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed she was actually taking this seriously.</p><p>“Interesting,” she said.</p><p>Wow, only one word? That had to be the most concise thing she had said all day!</p><p>“Furthermore,” Phoenix continued, “Dr Wallace confirmed to us that the murder weapon was a long, thin implement akin to a knitting needle. Is it not possible that Mrs Oldfart’s broken cigarette holder could fit that description to a T?”</p><p>“It is, isn’t it?” he heard Luke say beside him.</p><p>“And if her husband wasted her time all yesterday morning, it’s possible she killed him in a fit of rage!” Trucy piped up. “And she tried to hide it by dumping him in the street!”</p><p>Michaela seemed to have heard that suggestion, because she straightened up and started coiling her hair again.</p><p>“Yes,” she said, “that could be a possibility.”</p><p>“Trucy, do you mind?” Phoenix turned to stare daggers at her. “You’ve made a great point, but I’m trying to keep you out of this and preserve your innocence as much as possible!”</p><p>Trucy just gave him a shrug in response, and in spite of the awful situation, Phoenix almost felt proud of her sass.</p><p>“Oh, I’m going to hate myself for this…”</p><p>Before Phoenix could say anything to him, Luke stepped up to the bench.</p><p>“Furthermore,” he said to the court at large, “we have a witness who testified to the fact that the person who deposited Mr Oldfart’s body in the street was a tall, slender woman, and Mrs Oldfart fits that description perfectly!”</p><p>In spite of his well-worded explanation, his mouth was drawn and sweat was beading on his forehead.</p><p>“You okay?” asked Phoenix.</p><p>“Of course I want to protect the Professor, but not like this!” Luke had progressed to buttoning and unbuttoning one of his toggles over and over. “What if it turns out we’re wrong? What if this is all a gigantic mistake?”</p><p>“Then we apologise,” said Phoenix. “Simple as that. If they don’t want to forgive us, that’s up to them.”</p><p>“And we’d have accused a grieving widow of killing her husband…” Luke stepped back again, clutching his head, digging his fingers into his hair. “As if I didn’t already feel like a monster!”</p><p>It probably wasn’t going to comfort him much, but Phoenix gave the kid a pat on the shoulder all the same.</p><p>“Objection.”</p><p>Somewhere along the line, Michaela had regained her smile.</p><p>“Mr Wright, you make a very persuasive argument,” she told the defence, “and I am almost prepared to believe you on that count…”</p><p>She leaned forward on her bench again, seemingly growing in size as she stared down her opponents from across the hall.</p><p>“…but you claim to have a witness to the depositing of Mr Oldfart in the street,” she said, her tone surprisingly sharp. “That being said, can you provide a reason to the court as to why this witness has not been called to the stand to testify on your behalf?”</p><p>A thrill of horror shot through Phoenix’s body, only comparable to a drop of ice water slapping onto the back of his neck.</p><p>“Oh,” was all he managed to say, along with, “Um…”</p><p>He cleared his throat, but it didn’t do much to clear out the discomfort that now screamed from every cell in his body.</p><p>“Do we tell them he’s an owl?” whispered Trucy.</p><p>Phoenix held back from grinding his teeth.</p><p>He didn’t want to do this again. One parrot had been enough. Two parrots was excessive. Two parrots and an <em> owl? </em> There was no WAY he could allow this to happen. No way he was going to cross-examine a goddamn bird AGAIN.</p><p>But what was the alternative?</p><p>No, there was no point asking that. He knew. He knew that to avoid this would send an innocent man to prison and an actual honest-to-god murderer would still be out there somewhere.</p><p>Innocent.</p><p>Yes. Layton was innocent. He <em> had </em> to be. There was no way he could have killed Mr Oldfart. Even if all the evidence had added up, he’d spent the entire evening with Phoenix and Trucy, so it just wasn’t possible for him to be the culprit.</p><p>And Phoenix had done his best to turn Luke against him…</p><p>Well, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to people hating him by now.</p><p>In any case, as far as he could tell, there was only one way they were going to be able to put an end to this absurd mess.</p><p>“Whatever,” he decided. “We’ve dug ourselves <em> this </em>deep.”</p><p>He drew himself up to the fullest of his height.</p><p>“Ms Skellig,” he said as confidently as he could, “I would be delighted to call our witness to testify if we were given a space of time with which to track him down.”</p><p>“Track him down?” Michaela’s smirk grew into a full honest-to-god smile. “This witness wouldn’t happen to be the missing man that you and Mr Layton came to the village to find, would he?”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t bother to hide his fists this time as he listened to the gallery muttering to each other and snickering.</p><p>What the hell did <em> they </em> know?</p><p>“Not so much,” he snarled through gritted teeth.</p><p>He tried to push down his frustration as he turned back to Luke. If he could just pretend those laughing villagers weren’t there…</p><p>“Luke, how long do you think it would take to find your new friend from last night?” he asked.</p><p>His co-counsel cupped his chin, frowning in thought.</p><p>“I’m not sure,” he replied, “but I don’t know if the judge would be willing to give us more than fifteen minutes.”</p><p>“Okay then,” said Phoenix, and he looked up at the judge. “Your Honour, the defence requests a fifteen-minute recess with which to summon and prepare our witness.”</p><p>To his relief, the judge responded with a nod.</p><p>“Very well,” he said, “but understand that I shall not allow you another time out should it transpire that you wish to call yet <em> another </em> person to the stand. This court is now in recess.”</p><p>The sound of a tapping toffee hammer had never been so welcome.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“That was quite a display you put on, Mr Wright,” Layton said once he was done dusting snow off his hat. “You almost have me convinced that Mr Oldfart was murdered by his wife.”</p><p>“Well,” Phoenix said as the Professor leaned against the wall beside him, “as long as <em> you </em>think I’m doing the right thing, then fine.”</p><p>That was all it took for Layton’s hopeful smile to vanish.</p><p>“Do I detect a sense of uncertainty from you?” he asked.</p><p>Phoenix tried to distract himself by watching Trucy roll snowballs, but it didn’t do him much good. He plunged his hands into his pockets to protect them from a sudden breeze that washed through and flurried the snowflakes sideways for the briefest of moments.</p><p>“You probably do,” he replied, and tried to prevent the image of Nosie’s terrified face from springing into his mind. “I think it’s very likely that Mrs Oldfart is our guilty party, but if we’re wrong about this…”</p><p>Trucy straightened up with a snowball in her hand.</p><p>“We might have to use our secret plan,” she finished for him.</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t think of anything to say to that.</p><p>He couldn’t blame his little girl for wanting to help. Far from it. The mere thought of it swelled his heart with fatherly pride and almost caused him to wonder if maybe Trucy might consider a career change at some point in her future. Almost. He didn’t want her to give up on the magic she was already so talented at.</p><p>But this plan…</p><p>He was already surrounded by uncomfortable reminders as it was. A courtroom where everybody hated him. Old friends who had no idea what had happened to him since they’d last met. A prosecutor who took joy in making him squirm.</p><p>Hapless police officers. Lying witnesses.</p><p>Forged evidence.</p><p>And now <em> this</em>.</p><p>Everything piling on top of itself over and over again was getting to the point that he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the snow and <em> scream</em>.</p><p>No. No, he couldn’t think about this. Not right here. Not right now. He could already feel his face getting hot, his eyes burning, a painful knot growing harder and harder in his throat-</p><p>“Mr Wright.”</p><p>Layton’s voice may have been gentle, but it was sudden enough that Phoenix flinched at the sudden sound.</p><p>“I understand that you’re very uncomfortable with the prospect,” the Professor told him, “but if things take a turn for the-”</p><p>“You’re okay with this?” Phoenix spluttered. “I thought you were an Impeccable English Gentleman! You seriously want to go through with Trucy’s idea?!”</p><p>Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn’t be snapping like this, but he had to. He couldn’t let this go on. He had to do something to make this bastard <em> stop</em>.</p><p>“It’s true that I’m a gentleman, Mr Wright,” said Layton, “but a gentleman refuses to stand up for the abuse of the law, nor does he sit back and allow a miscarriage of justice to be passed and land an innocent man in prison.”</p><p>Phoenix kept his eyes fixed on the snow. He did <em> not </em>want to look at the Professor right now.</p><p>“If our actions cause the people of this village to reconsider their stance on my guilt,” Layton continued, “or even provide them with more time to investigate this case, that can’t truly be called a negative, can it?”</p><p>He was smiling, wasn’t he? Dammit, he was <em> smiling </em>again.</p><p>“Who knows? My disappearance may end up being the shock to the system these people sorely need.”</p><p>
  <em> *thud* </em>
</p><p>Phoenix slammed his fist into the wall they were leaning against.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He knew Trucy was staring at him and that Layton was probably alarmed by now, but he didn’t care.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” he heard Layton say.</p><p>“<em>No</em>,” Phoenix repeated. “Just shut up, okay? I don’t want you to be right about this! I-I don’t want to do this!”</p><p>Sure enough, Trucy had frozen, clutching a snowball to her chest in each hand.</p><p>“Trucy,” he said, “are you <em> sure </em> you can’t think of anything else we could try to save the Professor if things go wrong?!”</p><p>“Daddy, what do you want from me?” asked Trucy. “I don’t know <em> every </em> way to make a person disappear and there’s no way we can get Ms Skellig to stop! She wants the Professor’s head and if you know some other way to protect him if things go downhill, then tell me!”</p><p>She stomped on the snow to punctuate her point.</p><p>The knot in Phoenix’s throat hardened again at the sight of her frustration.</p><p>How could he think to pile his anger onto this kid? What kind of monster did that make him?</p><p>“I know,” he said, and he couldn’t bear to raise his voice higher than a murmur. “I know, sweetie. I know you just want to help but I…”</p><p>He rubbed his eyes. Somewhere there was a bed with his name written all over it…</p><p>“…I don’t…”</p><p>If only there was some way, somehow, that he could just find a peaceful place and <em> rest</em>.</p><p>“Mr Wright,” he heard Layton say, “if you truly are <em> this </em> uncomfortable with your daughter’s plan, then it would be best if you explained <em> why</em>.”</p><p>He heard a shuffling of feet in snow as the Professor straightened up, away from the wall.</p><p>“Yes, I know that you and Trucy both know,” the small man continued, “but I don’t, and a gentleman doesn’t just sit by and allow people to suffer without knowing the reason for it. If you truly wish to be the man who is keeping me out of prison, I will feel better knowing what’s weighing on your mind. I don’t want to doubt my defence’s mental health.”</p><p>More movement.</p><p>A hand on Phoenix’s arm.</p><p>“Please, Mr Wright. For the sake of all our sanities. <em> Talk to me</em>.”</p><p>Trucy was still frozen. The heat from her body was melting the snowballs she still held, but she didn’t seem to have noticed.</p><p>Phoenix shook himself away from the Professor’s hand and tried to swallow that goddamn knot.</p><p>“You know,” he said, “part of me does want to tell you what’s up, but I have plenty of reasons not to.”</p><p>He held up his fingers to count them off.</p><p>“Number one, if you take out the months since Labyrinthia where I barely even thought about you or Luke, I’ve technically only known you for a few days.”</p><p>Layton’s face remained impassive and blank.</p><p>“Number two, even if you were one of my closest friends, it’s not something I’m all that happy to talk about.”</p><p>Somehow it would have been more reassuring if he was trying to interject.</p><p>“Number three, we don’t have enough time. We only have until Luke gets back with our witness.”</p><p>Instead he was just…</p><p>“And number four, IT’S NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS.”</p><p>…standing there.</p><p>Phoenix had leaned right into his face with that shout, but the Professor hadn’t even moved. He barely even <em> blinked</em>.</p><p>What the hell was it going to take for the message to get through to this guy?</p><p>“So just <em> stop</em>, alright?” Phoenix prodded him in the chest to push him away. “Stop trying to break me down or get me to open up or whatever the hell you want to call it. I’m here right now to keep you from going to prison. I did <em> not </em> come to this goddamn country for your overwrought first-year psych student <em> bullshit</em>.”</p><p>And still…</p><p>…nothing.</p><p>The only response Layton gave him was a slight narrowing of his eyes.</p><p>If anything, he looked even <em> more </em> determined than he was before.</p><p>Phoenix stepped back. This was pointless.</p><p>“…I…”</p><p>A couple of soft thumps signalled to him that Trucy had dropped her snowballs.</p><p>“…I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, gasping like she could burst into tears any second. “…I… I didn’t…”</p><p>A thrill of panic shot through Phoenix’s heart and he dived down to wipe away any tears that dared touch his baby girl’s cheeks.</p><p>“It’s okay, Trucy-Goosy,” he told her. “I know you don’t want to upset me. I know you just want to help. You just want to keep the Professor safe and that’s very, <em> very </em> sweet of you. I want to help him too, okay?”</p><p>She sniffed and wiped her eyes on the back of her glove.</p><p>“But you don’t like my plan!” she pointed out.</p><p>Phoenix sighed. There was nothing he could do by now to deny that.</p><p>“No, I don’t,” he confessed, “but it’s the best plan we’ve got. I know I wouldn’t have been able to think of it.”</p><p>He patted her on the shoulder. Maybe a hug might have been better, but he didn’t quite feel in the mood for it right now.</p><p>“Don’t go hating yourself for coming up with it, okay?” he told her. “If it comes to it, I’ll help you pull it off. I just don’t want it to come to it.”</p><p>Another tear was brimming in her eye, but he wiped it away with his thumb.</p><p>To his immeasurable relief, she nodded.</p><p>“Okay,” she squeaked.</p><p>“Don’t cry, sweetie.” Phoenix offered her the kindest smile he could manage. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Can you give me a smile?”</p><p>At the very least, she managed a sweet little smirk, and Phoenix felt the knot in his throat unravelling at the mere sight of it.</p><p>He didn’t deserve this sweetheart.</p><p>She would definitely be better off with someone else.</p><p>Phoenix straightened up and brushed the snow off his knees.</p><p>He hadn’t heard anything from their client for a while, but neither had they heard any crunching of snow underfoot. He hadn’t left, had he?</p><p>No, he hadn’t. He was still standing there, watching, waiting.</p><p>“What?” asked Phoenix. “No backhanded compliments this time?”</p><p>Layton didn’t reply.</p><p>If anything, his stern gaze grew even harder.</p><p>Phoenix sighed. This man… no, this entire ridiculous situation was <em> exhausting</em>.</p><p>“Why the hell am I even doing this?” he wondered to himself, and he reached down for Trucy’s hand. “Come on, Truce. Let’s see if this place’s got a bathroom we can use. And you?”</p><p>He shoved his finger into Layton’s face, even though this <em> still </em>didn’t provoke a reaction.</p><p>“I’m going to trust you not to go anywhere,” he ordered. “The least you could do is keep us from getting into even more trouble than we’re already in by now.”</p><p>At long last, Layton moved. He reached up and adjusted his hat by its brim.</p><p>“A gentleman never runs out on friends, Mr Wright,” he replied. “You can trust me.”</p><p>Good <em> grief</em>.</p><p>There really was no getting through to him, was there?</p><p>“…whatever,” was all Phoenix could think of to say, and then he re-entered the welcome warmth of the town hall to see if it had any bathrooms.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Thin Air part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This time, that toffee hammer slamming was sudden and piercing enough to send shockwaves through Phoenix’s nerves.</p>
<p>“Court will now, for the last time today, reconvene,” declared the bearded man responsible.</p>
<p>The gentle hand on Phoenix’s arm was only barely enough to soothe his discomfort.</p>
<p>“Are you okay, Dad?” he heard Trucy ask.</p>
<p>He rubbed a hand over his face. Somehow it felt like only now that he truly understood the meaning of grim resignation.</p>
<p>“Do I have any choice?” he asked.</p>
<p>The resignation was pierced by regret as he felt his daughter’s hand withdraw.</p>
<p>“Probably not,” she said softly.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright,” said the judge, “is your witness prepared to testify?”</p>
<p>Movement in the corner of Phoenix’s eye made him look to the glass doors that led to the hall’s foyer, through which he could see Luke apparently embroiled in a heated discussion with their witness. The debate seemed to be about whether it was better for said witness to sit on Luke’s arm or his shoulder, although judging by that look on his face, Luke wasn’t all too happy with either of their options.</p>
<p>The sight was almost enough to make Phoenix angry. At least this kid <em>had</em> options.</p>
<p>“From what we can tell,” he said as he turned back to the court, “yes. Luke’s going to bring him in and act as a translator for us.”</p>
<p>“A translator?” asked the judge who should probably have already seen through those doors by now. “What in the world would we need a translator for?”</p>
<p>“Are we to understand that this witness of yours, Mr Wright,” Michaela spoke up, “is not a person well-versed in the ways of the English language?”</p>
<p>Phoenix gritted his teeth and swallowed. There was <em>no</em> way a woman like this was going to tolerate this nonsense.</p>
<p>“Uh…” Well, better to rip the band-aid off now than later. “Not quite. The defence hereby calls… um…”</p>
<p>Crap. Mother of all truckloads of <em>crap</em>.</p>
<p>“Trucy!” He leaned down to whisper to his daughter. “What did he say his name was?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know!” Trucy replied. “I don’t speak <em>owl!</em>”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay, um…” Phoenix swallowed again and straightened up. “The defence hereby calls…” Ugh, there was nothing else for it, was there? “…its latest witness to the stand.”</p>
<p>He saw Luke watching through the glass doors and gave him a nod.</p>
<p>Luke, who somehow looked even more uncomfortable than Phoenix felt right now, opened the door and slowly stepped into the courtroom.</p>
<p>The minute he became visible to the gallery, they started to talk again. Faint whispers of disbelief, gasps, jaws dropping in shock and amazement… it was about what Phoenix had expected, if he was going to be honest. All eyes in the courtroom were staring in shock at the brown and grey bird that sat on the teen’s shoulder as he walked through the gallery to the witness stand, and it was hard to tell whether his jaw was set in determination or in pain.</p>
<p>The owl, for its part, simply peered around the room, its massive yellow eyes not only piercing and harsh, but a baffling contrast against the two tufts of feathers that stuck up from the top of its head like rabbit’s ears.</p>
<p>“Good grief!” cried the judge as Luke reached the stand. “Mr Wright, what’s the meaning of this?!”</p>
<p>“I know it’s hard to believe, Your Honour,” Phoenix said before anybody else could make that demand, “but what you see – perched on my co-counsel’s shoulder – is our witness.”</p>
<p>The owl shuffled in its seat and Luke scrunched up his face at the sensation. Mrs Oldfart, quite understandably, backed away in alarm.</p>
<p>“You okay there, Luke?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>“He’s not heavy,” Luke reported, “but his talons are very- <em>ow</em>.”</p>
<p>He hissed through his teeth as the owl shifted again.</p>
<p>“I’m glad I’m wearing such a thick coat,” the poor boy groaned.</p>
<p>As if the way this thing was peering around the room without moving its body wasn’t creepy enough. Its head twisted this way and that like it wasn’t even connected to its body.</p>
<p>Phoenix gritted his teeth again. Hard enough that he was going to cross-examine yet another bird, but a bird as creepy as this one?</p>
<p>“He looks a lot smaller in the daylight,” Trucy commented. “Are those his ears? He’s cute!”</p>
<p>Her father stared down at her in confusion, but she just kept smiling.</p>
<p>“Daddy, he looks like a flying rabbit!” she said cheerfully.</p>
<p>Was… were they talking about the same bird here?</p>
<p>“Well, if <em>that</em> isn’t ironic,” Phoenix remarked.</p>
<p>He looked back at the bird, hoping to see what she was apparently seeing. The owl, meanwhile, leaned down and nipped at Luke’s hair as though trying to groom him.</p>
<p>Almost like Luke was one of its chicks or something.</p>
<p>“I guess he is pretty cute though,” Phoenix admitted. “Smaller than I imagined.”</p>
<p>He didn’t want to admit that every time he’d ever seen an owl on TV, perched on someone’s arm on a gigantic glove that looked like it could wipe out half the universe with just a snap of a finger, it had left him more than a little intimidated. Those things looked <em>gigantic</em>.</p>
<p>This thing, on the other hand, was only about a foot from head to tail.</p>
<p>He almost wanted to pet it.</p>
<p>But he had a feeling it would try to eat his hand if he did.</p>
<p>“Your Honour.”</p>
<p>Even though Michaela’s voice was gentle and on the far side of the room, it once again silenced every whisper in the court. And even if it hadn’t, her lack of that gentle smile would probably have done the trick.</p>
<p>“I think you would understand if I told you that I am left with no choice but to object,” she said. “It has become clear to me by now that Mr Wright has absolutely no intention of taking these proceedings seriously, and if this ridiculous display was not enough to confirm it, I would not be able to tell you what is.”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t avoid a sigh. Of <em>course</em> she would do anything she could to prevent this from happening. He couldn’t blame her. They were pretty much on the same page here.</p>
<p>“I agree,” he heard the judge say. “I have no idea what you’re trying to pull, Mr Wright, but-”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>The shout from beside Phoenix almost made him jump as hard as that toffee hammer had, quickly followed by a white boot thumping onto the desk.</p>
<p>“How can you just dismiss our witness out of hand if you haven’t even heard his testimony yet?” Trucy pointed as dramatically as she could. “I demand that he be given a chance for his voice to be heard!”</p>
<p>The judge’s eyes were wide in shock. His mouth flapped like he was trying to speak, but no sounds were coming out other than spluttered gasping.</p>
<p>“…w-well…” he choked. “…but I… Mr Wright, this is highly irregular!”</p>
<p>Phoenix leaned back and slipped his hands into his pockets. The more unbothered he could look during this mess, the better.</p>
<p>“I don’t like it any more than you do, Your Honour,” he stated as clearly as he could, “and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but…”</p>
<p>This was going to be embarrassing.</p>
<p>He couldn’t help but sigh again. All he wanted was to go back to bed…</p>
<p>“I have a precedent for this,” he explained. “I can’t be sure if you’re more familiar with it by now, but I’d like to again cite the case of State v Miles Edgeworth that I myself was involved in during late December 2016.”</p>
<p>Hmm, maybe he’d be taken more seriously if he could look more professional. He straightened up again and leaned his hands on their desk.</p>
<p>“During that case, a parrot was brought before the court to testify,” he told the judge, “and the phrases it had been trained to speak revealed that its owner, one Yanni Yogi, had in fact been the true culprit of the case. Had that parrot not been brought to cross-examination, the case would have remained unsolved and an innocent man would have been imprisoned. Or worse.”</p>
<p>Great. Now he was going to spend the rest of the day imagining Edgeworth on an electric chair or getting lethally injected.</p>
<p>He distracted himself by admiring the sheer bewilderment on the judge’s face.</p>
<p>“I see,” the bearded man said, and blinked his way back into his stern demeanour. “That’s certainly an impressive feat. I hope you understand that all I would need to do would be to research that case in order to find out whether you’re lying or not.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Phoenix replied as matter-of-factly as he could. “That’s why I didn’t lie.”</p>
<p>“Um, excuse me?”</p>
<p>When he looked back to Luke, the boy was waving his non-owl-restricted arm for attention.</p>
<p>“Another case you may not be familiar with, Your Honour,” he said, “is the late 2018 trial of the County of Labyrinthia vs Maya Fey. A parrot that had overheard the sequence of events that led to what had been perceived as a…”</p>
<p>He trailed off as his eyes wandered to where the defendant was sitting, and he took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“…as a murder,” he continued, “was brought to the stand and made to testify. It was through this parrot’s testimony that the true order of events became clear and the suspect was rightfully wiped of suspicion. If you don’t believe me, ask Mr Wright! He was there for that one as well!”</p>
<p>Great. Now everybody in the court was staring right at Phoenix like he had suddenly screamed in Portuguese.</p>
<p>“I do hope you don’t plan on making a habit out of bringing birds to testify, Mr Wright!” cried the judge.</p>
<p>“Trust me,” Phoenix sighed. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”</p>
<p>“Hold it.”</p>
<p>Michaela’s smug little smirk had returned full force, complete with her finger coiling her platinum blonde hair into curls.</p>
<p>“I see your point clear as day, Mr Wright,” she said, “but you and your young friend seem to have overlooked a relatively vital point on the subject of birds being brought to testimony. The two cases that the pair of you have cited as precedent were cases that involved a parrot, and I should hope that I need not remind you that parrots can be trained to emulate the voices of humans and some are even intelligent enough to carry out full conversations and form their own sentences from an extensive vocabulary, but as you can see, this new bird that you have summoned is not a parrot.”</p>
<p>She gestured to the witness stand while Phoenix wondered if she had said all of that within a single breath.</p>
<p>“It would, in fact, appear to be a long-eared owl,” she pointed out.</p>
<p>Long eared? Phoenix looked back at the owl and its bunny-like tufts of feathers.</p>
<p>“Wow, is that literally what they’re called?” he wondered.</p>
<p>“Since I assume that you are <em>not</em> entirely brain-dead, Mr Wright,” Michaela added, “I shall not bother to explain to you why it would be significantly more difficult for an owl to testify than it would be for a parrot.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Ms Skellig, I know,” Phoenix replied, and he made sure to keep his tone as casual as he could. “That’s why Luke is at the stand with the witness on his shoulder rather than over here with me and Truce. You may not believe me-” He jabbed a thumb in Luke’s direction. “-but Luke is able to understand and communicate with animals. He’s going to act as the conduit for our witness to speak through, seeing as the rest of us don’t talk in hoots and cooing.”</p>
<p>Michaela laughed her musical little giggle.</p>
<p>“Must I point out that there is a rather sizable problem in this little scheme of yours?” she asked. “How are we to know that the words this young man is speaking are truly those that he is supposedly translating for this quote-unquote witness and that he is not just making up everything he says on the spot?”</p>
<p>A valid point, Phoenix had to admit, but it relied on the idea that Luke was somehow dumb enough to try that.</p>
<p>“Luke?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>Luke raised his hand again.</p>
<p>“I hereby swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,” he spluttered. “Please believe me, Ms Skellig! Everything I’ll say will be a direct translation of what Sir Edgar wants me to say!”</p>
<p>“I beg your pardon?” snapped the judge. “Are you telling me this owl’s name is Sir Edgar?”</p>
<p>The owl hooted softly in Luke’s ear.</p>
<p>“Sir Edgar Shelley dePhillips IV,” Luke said, “Backbranch MP of the Attic of Lords. He tells me that he’s a prominent up-and-comer in Fatargan’s parliament.”</p>
<p>Yet again, the judge was left agape.</p>
<p>“My goodness,” he gasped, “I had no idea owls were so well-organised, let alone that they had their own hierarchical democratic governmental system!”</p>
<p>It seemed that long, flowery sentences were catching in this courtroom.</p>
<p>“I know that those were <em>words</em>,” Trucy said quietly.</p>
<p>“Same here,” Phoenix said. “Not got a clue what he’s talking about. Congress, maybe?”</p>
<p>“…this is…” The judge rubbed one of his temples with the tips of his fingers. “I still think this is absolutely absurd, but if this owl’s testimony turns out to be valuable or helpful, I will have no choice but to accept it. Does the prosecution have any objections?”</p>
<p>This time, Michaela actually went so far as to cross her arms.</p>
<p>“Many, Uncle Angus,” she responded, “but we shall be here all day if I were to take the time required to list every single one of them and then <em>nothing</em> would get done, so I shall refrain from voicing my objections and allow the defence to have their little joke. Up to a point, of course.”</p>
<p>“Up to a point, Ms Skellig?” Phoenix echoed. “And what point would that be?”</p>
<p>For a brief moment, her gaze fell upon him, eyelids flickering as though they were about to open.</p>
<p>“The point, Mr Wright, that it ceases to be funny.”</p>
<p>She turned to face the witness stand.</p>
<p>So they were going to allow this. Thank <em>god.</em></p>
<p>Phoenix pulled his journal back out and found the next mostly blank page. Sir Edgar’s testimony was going to have to share space with a doodle of a burning dahlia flower beside a tall, blooming sunflower.</p>
<p>Hopefully nobody would see that one for long enough to wonder what it meant.</p>
<p>He got his pencil out just in time for the owl to start hooting in Luke’s ear again.</p>
<p>“I was touring the village on the hunt for some early evening breakfast,” Luke translated, “and I noticed movement in the snow-covered street below me. A thin figure resembling your species’ females was carrying something large and heavy over her shoulders. When she reached the middle of the street, she threw him down onto the ground. She then retraced her steps through her footprints and disappeared into the shadows. That’s all I saw. May I leave now?”</p>
<p>The silence in the courtroom was downright oppressive.</p>
<p>Once Phoenix had finished scribbling out all the notes he would probably end up needing, he looked up to see Mrs Oldfart hugging herself tighter than ever and shying away from Luke and the witness sitting on his shoulder.</p>
<p>Considering how much those yellow eyes bulged whenever they looked at anyone, it was hard to blame her.</p>
<p>“Well, that was…” The judge’s expression had changed from bewildered to pensive. “Really, that was rather damning.”</p>
<p>“No kidding.” Phoenix leaned back again so that he couldn’t be heard by anyone other than his co-counsel. “To be honest, I was mostly spitballing when I accused Mrs Oldfart, but do you think I might’ve actually been onto something?”</p>
<p>“What?” Trucy stumbled on her chair. “Daddy, you upset her that much and you weren’t even being that serious about it?!”</p>
<p>“I was, I swear!” Phoenix insisted. “It feels like the most logical outcome, alright?”</p>
<p>“If we are to truly believe that this young man is, indeed, speaking the words of his aviary companion,” Michaela said loud enough for the entire court to hear, “then it seems possible that the defence may have had a point, but I would not wish to count my puffins before they have had a chance to hatch. Uncle Angus?”</p>
<p>The judge gave her a nod.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” he said. “Mr Wright, you may begin your cross-examination.”</p>
<p>Phoenix responded with a grim nod of his own.</p>
<p>“Here we go again,” he muttered to himself.</p>
<p>At least this time, he wasn’t having to drag the answers out of the bird by their goddamn nose hairs. There was actually a human mediator to speak for him.</p>
<p>Was it possible Luke could be persuaded to come and work for the Wright Talent Agency in case any other birds or animals needed to be questioned?</p>
<p>Maybe it would be worth asking him once this mess had been cleaned up.</p>
<p>Right now, there were statements he needed to press.</p>
<p>On a testimony from an <em>owl</em>.</p>
<p>This was seriously his life. Questioning <em>birds</em>.</p>
<p>“Could you tell us what it is you hunt, Sir Edgar?” he asked just to start things off.</p>
<p>The owl twittered something in Luke’s ear.</p>
<p>“He says it’s mostly rats and mice,” Luke explained, “but sometimes rabbits or voles.”</p>
<p>He was cut off by a loud, indignant hoot.</p>
<p>“Oh,” said Luke. “He says ‘anything he can catch’ because this village is a bit sparse in terms of wildlife.”</p>
<p>“If you wish me to be perfectly honest,” Michaela interjected, “I had no idea that we had owls dwelling in these mountains, let alone this village, until this lovely specimen was brought to the court’s attention. I had believed that they simply had no interest in Fatargan.”</p>
<p>“It wouldn’t surprise me if the power of the Painted King had frightened them away,” added the judge. “I know that if I was a bird hunting for dinner, I’d avoid the land ruled by an immense and sometimes hostile spiritual army!”</p>
<p>How in the world was he finding that funny?</p>
<p>Oh god, and Michaela was laughing too. This whole situation was making Phoenix’s skin crawl.</p>
<p>“Yeah, of course,” he said just in case they got suspicious. “So Sir Edgar, can you tell us how good your eyesight is? It must be impressive if you’re able to find such small creatures every night.”</p>
<p>The owl twittered in Luke’s ear again.</p>
<p>“He says his eyesight is among the most impressive of the Attic of Lords,” the teen reported, “and is the reason he won the popular vote in the most recent election. He can see a field mouse from the far side of the valley and- no!” He stared at the witness in shock. “I’m not going to say that!”</p>
<p>“Luke?” Phoenix frowned as the owl started hooting again.</p>
<p>“He was boasting about how he can swallow- no, I won’t!” Luke’s hand froze halfway to his shoulder, like he wanted to push the bird away in abject horror. “Maybe that’s a point of pride for birds of prey, but humans would find that disgusting!”</p>
<p>Something about swallowing, huh?</p>
<p>“I don’t think I want to know,” Phoenix decided.</p>
<p>“So there might not be a whole lot of rabbits around here, huh?” Trucy tapped her chin in thought. “Guess that rules out one of the tricks I wanted to try.”</p>
<p>“Hey, you could give pulling an owl out of a hat a shot,” Phoenix offered. “You did say this one looks like a rabbit.”</p>
<p>“Rabbits don’t have claws that could tear you to pieces!” cried Trucy.</p>
<p>Phoenix looked again at the shining black talons that were digging into Luke’s shoulder. If it weren’t for that coat, the poor boy would be bleeding like crazy.</p>
<p>“That’s fair,” he said, and he made sure to write ‘owl eyesight very good’ with several underlines on ‘very’ for emphasis. “For how long did you watch this movement you mentioned? Did you just take a glance as you were flying overhead or did you pause somewhere to see what was going on?”</p>
<p>Luke leaned closer to Sir Edgar’s beak to listen to his twittering.</p>
<p>“Um…” He frowned. “He says that he had paused to take a rest on a branch beside the King’s Arms and that was when he saw the body dump.”</p>
<p>“Objection.”</p>
<p>Michaela, once again, was coiling her hair around her finger. She was going to have a full-on ringlet by the time this trial was done with.</p>
<p>“A thought has just occurred to me that I am surprised Mr Wright has failed to mention before now,” she said, “and that is the matter of whether or not this ‘thin figure’ who left Uncle Wrenkley in the street was even the person who had been responsible for his death and not simply an accomplice.”</p>
<p>Oh crud. That was a valid point, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>“…crap,” Phoenix muttered.</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” The desk shuddered under the weight of Trucy’s stomp. “It’s perfectly natural for a murderer to want to remove their victim from the scene of the initial crime in order to throw off suspicion!”</p>
<p>She pointed like it was something she had been practising her entire life.</p>
<p>“My apologies, Ms Skellig, but that isn’t as valid a point as you seem to think!” she shouted.</p>
<p>Michaela’s smile vanished as though it had been wiped off with a washcloth.</p>
<p>“I…” Phoenix stared up and down the length of his daughter’s arm. “Trucy, you… where did you even learn this stuff?! Until a couple of days ago, I haven’t taken part in any trials in months! Literally <em>months!</em>”</p>
<p>“I’m a fast learner, Daddy!” Trucy replied as she lowered her arm. “Plus I’m not stupid!”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but feel like she’d earned that proud little smile she was giving him.</p>
<p>“At least <em>that’s</em> something I can’t deny,” he told her, and she gave him the cutest, cheesiest grin she could manage.</p>
<p>He reached under her hat and ruffled her hair, causing an adorable little giggle of embarrassment, and looked back at the stand as Luke received more testimony to translate.</p>
<p>“He, um…” Luke said. “He says that he didn’t want to linger for long after seeing the body dump because he was hungry, but he couldn’t see or hear anything so he just continued sitting in the tree. He was still there when the Professor rounded the corner and came poking around, but didn’t try to say anything to him because he didn’t know it was possible for a human to communicate with, um…” He cleared his throat. “With his species.”</p>
<p>Phoenix passed a quick glance at where Layton was sitting, meeting the defendant’s gaze for the briefest of moments. All Layton offered him was a shrug.</p>
<p>“Luke,” Phoenix said, “the Professor can’t speak to animals, can he?”</p>
<p>The question caused Luke to frown again.</p>
<p>“No, not as far as I know,” he replied, and he cast his eyes down to the floor. “From what I’ve been able to tell, I’m the only person in the world with this talent.”</p>
<p>After his own glance at Layton, he turned back to the court.</p>
<p>“In any case,” he continued, “I don’t think he had any reason to try to talk to Sir Edgar.”</p>
<p>Of course not, Phoenix considered. This was a man whose life was built on puzzles and mysteries and being an Impeccable English Gentleman. He didn’t have any need for a conversation with a nocturnal bird of prey.</p>
<p>“So Sir Edgar,” Phoenix said, “you didn’t pay a great deal of attention to the dump itself?”</p>
<p>The owl hooted in Luke’s ear. It was odd that a bird was able to understand human speech while remaining incapable of emulating it. It gave a distinct impression of speaking with some kind of mouse-eating AI.</p>
<p>“No,” Luke replied, “he didn’t pay it much mind at the time.”</p>
<p>“I guess he <em>is</em> an owl,” said Trucy. “They don’t really care about humans that much, do they?”</p>
<p>“I guess not,” Phoenix said. “Especially not <em>this</em> guy.”</p>
<p>As with many of the details he’d received over the course of his career, he had no idea how important this might turn out to be, but made a note of it nonetheless. This was an account of the witness seeing the scene of the crime, after all.</p>
<p>Even if that witness was a goddamn <em>owl</em>.</p>
<p>Phoenix fought back the growing urge to scream. This was ridiculous. Bad enough that he had cross-examined two birds that could speak back to him, but now he was cross-examining a bird that <em>couldn’t</em> and he could feel this entire village laughing right in his face, judging him, watching him humiliate himself and tear apart every shred of dignity he could have ever hoped to have-</p>
<p>No. Stop it. There would be time for this later.</p>
<p>Plenty of time to scream once this trial was over.</p>
<p>Right now, he had statements to press.</p>
<p>“How could you tell that this person you saw was a woman?” he asked.</p>
<p>“He says that she was wearing a long garment characteristic of feminine human fashion,” Luke translated, “and that…”</p>
<p>He cut himself off, eyes widening in shock again and darting to his side. His gulp was so hard that it almost looked painful.</p>
<p>“Now that he’s beside Mrs Oldfart,” he continued, “he sees a noticeable resemblance.”</p>
<p>“What?” Nosie stepped away from him as whispers rippled through the gallery. “What are you talking about? Stop it!” She wildly looked around the room. “Michaela! Angus! Your Honour, make him stop!”</p>
<p>“Are you calling for an end to the cross-examination, Mrs Oldfart?” asked the judge.</p>
<p>“Y-yes!” cried Nosie, clutching her arms hard enough to shed her coat’s feathers. “Whatever you want me to say, I’ll say it! Just make him shut up! Please!”</p>
<p>The judge, however, shook his head in response.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Nosie,” he said solemnly, “but even when the witness is of the aviary variety, you don’t have the authority to decide whether or not they get questioned on the stand. Go ahead, Mr Wright.”</p>
<p>Phoenix gave the judge another nod, but something in the back of his mind whispered that Nosie’s behaviour was far outside the norm when it came to culprits of murder.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Your Honour,” he replied, and tried not to let the witness’s horrifying eyes intimidate him. “Sir Edgar, besides the physical structure, did you notice anything else about the person you saw that you would describe as distinctive?”</p>
<p>Luke’s set jaw showed that he was growing just as uncomfortable as Phoenix was.</p>
<p>“He says… she was glancing around as though she was looking for something or…” His frown somehow deepened even further. “…or perhaps looking to see if anyone else was there.”</p>
<p>If anyone was there at the crime scene… where no blood and only two sets of footprints had been found…</p>
<p>“Did the figure she was carrying move at all while he was being carried?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>“No,” Luke responded as Sir Edgar twittered in his ear. “No, he was limp the whole time.”</p>
<p>And given how cold it had been last night and still was today, he would’ve been shivering enough for an owl to notice if he had still been alive, right?</p>
<p>“He must’ve already been dead by then, huh?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>“Dr Wallace did say that the cause of death was blood loss,” Phoenix recalled. “I guess Mr Oldfart had already bled out by then. Or at least he must have lost consciousness.”</p>
<p>“So when people bleed to death, they don’t just die?” Trucy asked. “They pass out first?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, blood loss causes people to pass out before they die, so it’s a pretty dangerous situation,” Phoenix explained to her, stroking his stubble as he thought back over the various blood loss cases he’d dealt with over the years. “Means you can’t go searching for help. I guess you can save someone if you get to them in time, but that doesn’t always happen, and even then, unless the victim’s heartbeat is still strong enough to keep the blood pumping if they get a transfusion, then I guess oh my god why the hell am I telling you all this?!”</p>
<p>Trucy stifled a snort of laughter.</p>
<p>“Because you’re my dad and you want me to learn?” she suggested.</p>
<p>Phoenix resisted the urge to slap himself in the face. He didn’t want to think about how many nightmares he could have given his baby girl by telling her all of that.</p>
<p>A rapid-fire rush of hooting snapped him out of his thoughts before they could drag him down too harshly.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” Luke was now leaning away from his own shoulder. “Sir Edgar wants to hurry this along so that he can return to the Attic of Lords.”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay…” Phoenix added a note about Mr Oldfart’s lack of consciousness. “Jeez, how is it possible for an <em>owl</em> to be so goddamn pushy?”</p>
<p>The next statement had been about the victim being dropped in the snow. That, in itself, raised a number of questions. Thinking back on how those twin cops had insisted that Layton had been in the process of posing the victim when he had been caught…</p>
<p>“So the culprit didn’t take any care when leaving Mr Oldfart in the street?” Phoenix asked. “They just dropped him there?”</p>
<p>Luke reluctantly leaned back towards the witness.</p>
<p>“That’s correct,” he replied. “He says it looked almost as though she was throwing him down.”</p>
<p>“Talk about respect to the dead,” Phoenix mumbled under his breath. “So there wasn’t any significance to the arrangement of the body? The person who left him there didn’t pose him?”</p>
<p>Thank god they weren’t talking openly about the blood loss. Poor Luke was already having a difficult time without having to make himself sick on the stand.</p>
<p>“No, he was just dropped,” he translated.</p>
<p>Sir Edgar, however, wasn’t done. He kept hooting in Luke’s ear.</p>
<p>“W-what?!” cried Luke. “No, I can’t tell them that!”</p>
<p>The next round of hooting was not only angry, but offended.</p>
<p>“I don’t care!” Luke almost shouted. “That’s dreadful! I don’t understand how you could-”</p>
<p>He was cut off by even more furious cooing.</p>
<p>“Luke?” Phoenix could feel cold dread pooling in his stomach. “Is something wrong?”</p>
<p>“I, um…” Luke swallowed hard again. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to say.”</p>
<p>“This is a cross-examination in a court of law, Luke,” Phoenix pointed out in spite of his growing worry. “If the witness has something to say, it’s best that we hear it.”</p>
<p>Maybe discussion of blood wasn’t necessary. Luke was growing paler by the second.</p>
<p>“Sir Edgar, um…” His other hand fiddled with his coat’s little toggle. “…before Professor Layton hurried to Mr Oldfart’s side, Sir Edgar had considered…” He gulped again. “…feeding on him.”</p>
<p>So that cold dread <em>hadn’t</em> been for nothing.</p>
<p>“…oh,” was all Phoenix could find it in himself to say.</p>
<p>“Eurgh, that’s disgusting!” Trucy’s face was scrunched up in distaste. “I thought owls ate little mice and stuff!”</p>
<p>“I guess…” What could a father say to comfort his daughter in a situation like this? “…if they got the opportunity…”</p>
<p>“How dare you!” Nosie stared at the owl in dismay. “You <em>monster!</em> Don’t you dare lay a feather on my Wrenkley, you hear me?!”</p>
<p>“Be not afraid, Auntie Nosie,” Michaela said calmly, “for your husband’s body now rests in Dr Wallace’s clinic, where no wild birds or animals would be able to touch him and he may safely be buried intact and complete.”</p>
<p>Even with her reassurance, it was difficult not to imagine some bird or another flying along, not realising what they’d come across and pecking out one of the victim’s eyes. The thought of it was almost enough to make Phoenix gag.</p>
<p>“Dr Wallace would’ve mentioned if Mr Oldfart got a bit eaten, right?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>“Yeah, that seems like something you’d want to mention when you’re talking about the body,” Phoenix agreed, forcing back a belch that he worried might follow through. “I guess we can safely say our witness didn’t eat any of our victim.”</p>
<p>Trucy’s face just about summed up how Phoenix felt.</p>
<p>“…ew…” she squeaked.</p>
<p>“Sorry, sweetie,” Phoenix said. “I’ll move on now if you like.”</p>
<p>All he wrote about in his journal was the lack of meaning in the victim’s position. There was <em>no</em> way he was going to add anything about… <em>that</em>.</p>
<p>The next point had been about their mystery dumper’s footprints. He flipped open Dr Wallace’s report and pulled out the photo that showed the footprints so that he had a handy reference.</p>
<p>“I think the fact that our mystery dumper retraced her steps so precisely makes it clear they didn’t want to be found,” he commented, half to himself and half to the witnesses.</p>
<p>“I guess that makes sense, right?” asked Trucy. “I mean, if they <em>killed</em> someone, they wouldn’t want people knowing they were there!”</p>
<p>“It strikes me as a desire to make it look like the victim died in the street where he was found,” Phoenix reminded her. “Only one set of footprints leading up to where he was lying? The logical assumption would be that they were Mr Oldfart’s footprints.”</p>
<p>The owl twittered something in Luke’s ear.</p>
<p>“He didn’t have any idea why she did that,” Luke explained. “At the time, he just thought it was rather odd, but…” He leaned in as their witnesses added something. “…he doesn’t consider himself one to question the actions of humans.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t he think this was something that should at least be brought up at the next parliamentary meeting?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>The owl hopped from foot to taloned foot, flapping his wings and twittering and hooting like mad. Luke leaned his head away to protect himself from the rush of feathers right in his face and spluttered through his lips as a few stray strands brushed against his mouth.</p>
<p>It felt like forever before he finally settled down and started preening his wings.</p>
<p>“…no,” Luke translated.</p>
<p>Phoenix held back the comment he wanted to make about the translation being unnecessary.</p>
<p>“…anyways, Sir Edgar,” he said instead, “if you were to point out somebody you think is most likely to have been the person you saw, would you be able to do so for the court?”</p>
<p>The owl hooted something that caused Luke’s expression to somehow fall even further than it already had.</p>
<p>“…he says…” the poor boy managed. “…it would be the woman beside the boy I’m currently perched on.”</p>
<p>That did it.</p>
<p>The villagers in the gallery didn’t bother trying to keep their voices low anymore. Everybody was gossiping to everybody else, openly shooting filthy looks at both the people on the witness stand, voices raising with every passing second.</p>
<p>Nosie stared around at the court like a deer caught in the world’s brightest headlights.</p>
<p>“What?!” she cried. “No, th-that can’t be! It’s not possible!”</p>
<p>Her behaviour definitely seemed familiar.</p>
<p>Just how many murderers had Phoenix caught by exposing them with methods just like this? He’d given up on counting by now.</p>
<p>“Please try to remain calm, Mrs Oldfart,” he said even though he knew it was useless.</p>
<p>“You’ve got this wrong, you bastard!” she yelled at him over the sound of the chattering gallery, eyes beginning to water. “I didn’t kill anybody, least of all my husband! I loved Wrenkley, do you hear me? I loved him with all my heart!”</p>
<p>“Order!” The judge hammered on his lectern with his so-called gavel. “Order! Order in the court!”</p>
<p>The gossip failed to die down as he slammed that little hammer, and Phoenix resisted the urge to slap his hands over his ears before all this noise could give him a headache.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, please explain yourself!” the judge shouted over the noise. “What is the meaning of this? Do you intend to tell me that even this owl wishes to accuse Mrs Oldfart of her husband’s murder?!”</p>
<p>Phoenix hoped that nobody would notice how hard he had tensed up at the sound of that hammer.</p>
<p>“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” he replied as casually as he could. “What do you think, Truce?”</p>
<p>Even Trucy was hugging her arms now.</p>
<p>“I really didn’t want to believe it and…” The sight of her worry was heart-aching. “Dad, I’m a stage magician, you know I don’t have <em>real</em> magic powers, but is Luke really legit? Can we trust him?”</p>
<p>God, she was fiddling with her brooch again. She only ever did that when something was <em>really</em> bothering her.</p>
<p>“It’s strange, I know,” Phoenix said gently, “but I’ve seen him do it before. It ended up being pretty useful in Labyrinthia when a cat or dog came and brought us a message. And yes, before you ask, those messages turned out to be accurate.”</p>
<p>Oh no, now she was fiddling with <em>both </em>hands?</p>
<p>“If what I saw last night through that stone was real,” she said slowly, “then I guess it’s possible, right?”</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Phoenix replied. “Don’t worry, Truce. I trust Luke’s word on this.”</p>
<p>Oh no, now she was getting teary-eyed as well. Just seeing her like this was <em>painful</em>.</p>
<p>“But why were you shouting at him last night?”</p>
<p>It was so, <em>so</em> hard not to lean down and give her a hug right in front of everyone.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Truce,” was all Phoenix could think of to say. “I’ll tell you later. Once this whole mess is over, okay?”</p>
<p>She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.</p>
<p>“Okay, if you promise,” she said shortly. “Like I said, I didn’t want to believe it was Mrs Oldfart who did it, but…”</p>
<p>She was more worried than ever as she looked back at the woman now cowering on the witness stand.</p>
<p>“But if it wasn’t the Professor, then what other options do we have?” she asked.</p>
<p>Phoenix patted her on her shoulder.</p>
<p>“I know, sweetie,” he said to her. “Are you sure you don’t want to step out?”</p>
<p>“Order! Order!” The judge shouted and slammed his gavel again. “I <em>will</em> have order!”</p>
<p>Trucy took a deep breath as the talking finally started to die down.</p>
<p>“I think I’ll be okay,” she replied.</p>
<p>If only there was more time to tell if she was lying or not.</p>
<p>Phoenix kept his hand on her shoulder as he turned back to the judge.</p>
<p>“Your Honour, Luke is a smart boy,” he said, not just to him but to the rest of the village. “Even to save his mentor, he knows better than to lie on the stand, especially about a matter as serious as the one that led to this trial. He’s being entirely honest in his claims that he can communicate with animals. I doubt he would have been able to bring Sir Edgar to this courtroom if he didn’t.”</p>
<p>To his relief, the judge didn’t immediately snap about how impossible that was.</p>
<p>“Indeed,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s certainly a good point.”</p>
<p>“If Sir Edgar’s testimony is to be believed,” Phoenix continued, “there are very few other options for the culprit responsible for Mr Oldfart’s death.”</p>
<p>“You certainly seem convinced of Mr Oldfart’s guilt, Mr Wright,” Michaela spoke up, “but do you think you could explain to us just how you believe all of this happened? If you truly are as confident as you wish the court to believe you are, you surely will not have any trouble with that explanation.”</p>
<p>Phoenix responded with as casual a shrug as he could manage.</p>
<p>“Sure, why not?” he said, and he turned back to the witness stand. “Mrs Oldfart, here’s what I think happened. I think you were angry at your husband after yesterday’s absurd trial.”</p>
<p>“No,” Nosie said quietly.</p>
<p>“You were stewing on that anger all day and, at some point during the evening, you snapped.”</p>
<p>“No!”</p>
<p>“You took that cigarette holder you broke and used it to stab your husband in the throat. Before you even realised what had happened, he was lying on the floor, stone dead, right in front of you.”</p>
<p>“Stop it!”</p>
<p>“And when you realised that, you panicked. You knew there was no way you would be able to explain around it. With that in mind, you took your husband’s body and you left him in the middle of the street in the hopes that nobody would be able to tell that you were the one who had killed him!”</p>
<p>Nosie’s eyes were wide and her breathing was short and sharp.</p>
<p>“…please…” she gasped. “…please stop…”</p>
<p>“What do you have to say for yourself, Mrs Oldfart?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>How much more was it going to take to make this woman break down and just confess already? It was obvious she had done it! She could make it all so much easier on herself if she just admitted the truth!</p>
<p>But instead, she just hugged herself, quiet tears pouring down her cheeks.</p>
<p>“…stop it…” she said weakly.</p>
<p>Phoenix’s fists clenched on the tabletop.</p>
<p>“That is <em>enough</em>, Mr Wright.”</p>
<p>He unclenched them just as quickly at the sound of Michaela’s voice, and when he looked up at her, she was once again devoid of that smile.</p>
<p>“Thank you for that fascinating tale,” she said.</p>
<p>What was going on?</p>
<p>Did she believe him? Had he actually convinced the prosecution this time?</p>
<p>“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Ms Skellig,” Phoenix said back.</p>
<p>“As for you, Auntie Nosie…” Michaela turned her gaze to the witness stand.</p>
<p>“Yes?” Nosie squeaked.</p>
<p>And then, just like that, the smile returned.</p>
<p>“You may step down,” Michaela told her, “and you have the full apologies of the court for wasting your time and putting you through all of this trouble.”</p>
<p>Nosie pulled out her handkerchief again to wipe her face.</p>
<p>“…thank you,” she said weakly, and she turned away from the stand.</p>
<p>“Huh?” Phoenix held himself back from slamming on the desk. “You don’t have the authority for that!”</p>
<p>“You’ve provided us with an amusing display and a fascinating explanation, Mr Wright,” said the judge, “but I do hope you weren’t expecting us to take the word of an <em>owl</em> as fact in an official court of law.”</p>
<p>“What?” Luke grasped the edges of the witness stand, his eyes suddenly wide in fear. “He didn’t lie! I didn’t lie either! Everything we said was the truth!”</p>
<p>“Order!” the judge shouted again. “He is an <em>owl</em>, young man! Only the most absurd joke of a court would even begin to consider accepting the word of an owl as official testimony! And as for you, Mr Wright…” His stare was furious to the point of being crippling. “…if you have no true evidence of Mrs Oldfart’s guilt, I shall be forced to ask you to withdraw your accusation. This poor woman lost her husband last night and I shall not allow you to pin her for a crime that she clearly did not commit!”</p>
<p>Why was it that all of a sudden, all Phoenix could picture was wrecking balls?</p>
<p>“But if it wasn’t her, then who could it have been?” he pointed out.</p>
<p>“You are familiar with the concept of Occam’s Razor, are you not?” Michaela was, yet again, coiling her hair around her finger. “When the impossible is ruled out, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth, and from the beginning, though it may seem improbable, there had only ever been one true candidate for the murderer of Uncle Wrenkley, and I should think that I need not remind you who it is that I am referring to.”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t move.</p>
<p>He could barely even breathe.</p>
<p>There wasn’t anything he could do to stop his case from crumbling to dust right before his very eyes.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t the Professor!” he heard Luke insisting.</p>
<p>“He was with us all evening!” cried Trucy. “He didn’t kill anybody!”</p>
<p>“Do you not remember Dr Wallace’s explanation,” Michaela said calmly, “that clearly stated how uncertain he was regarding the time of death? Do you not think it possible that the murder could have been committed during the time that came before he was discovered by Officers Poe and after he departed the King’s Arms?”</p>
<p>Phoenix felt his fingers twitching on the desk’s surface below him.</p>
<p>Surely there had to be <em>something</em> he could do! Anything! Something he had overlooked, maybe? He flipped through the folder Dr Wallace had given them and scanned over the pages and photos again, hoping for something, <em>any</em> little detail that could turn everything around again.</p>
<p>“Is it…” he heard Trucy say. “Daddy, is that possible?”</p>
<p>“I-I don’t know.” Phoenix looked between the two photos of the crime scene, comparing glowing white snow to shadowed gold. “Maybe?”</p>
<p>“I cannot say how he discarded the murder weapon or concealed Mr Oldfart’s blood,” Michaela went on, “but I am certain that with interrogation of a higher-ranking capacity, he may be pressed to the point of admitting the truth at long last. Your Honour?”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course.”</p>
<p>The shock of the toffee hammer’s slam caused the photos to fall from Phoenix’s hands.</p>
<p>“That was a nice try, Mr Wright,” said the judge, “but I hereby bring this cross-examination to a close. The witnesses are dismissed.”</p>
<p>“No!” cried Luke. “No, you can’t-”</p>
<p>The sound of rushing wind caused Phoenix to look up, and he saw their vital, game-changing witness take to the air and fly away through the still-open doors of the foyer and out into the snow-filled sky.</p>
<p>“Wait!” shouted Trucy, leaping down from her chair. “Sir Edgar, STOP!”</p>
<p>“Trucy!” Phoenix’s snatching hand fell short of her cloak as she ran from their bench.</p>
<p>All he could do was watch, numbness washing over his body, as she sped past the gallery and out of the hall, taking with her their last chance of this trial ending in anything other than an utter, devastating disaster.</p>
<p>It was over.</p>
<p>They had lost.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Luke’s hands were deeper in his pockets than ever before as he stood beside Phoenix at the defence’s bench.</p>
<p>Trucy was nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>And Phoenix? All he could do was watch as their defendant took his place at the stand to receive his verdict, his head solemnly bowed, holding the brim of his hat down over his eyes.</p>
<p>All he could think was that he should have known by now how easy it was for everything to go wrong at once.</p>
<p>“It pains me to have to do this to you, Professor,” he heard the judge say. “I was a great admirer of your work.”</p>
<p>The Professor didn’t look up.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he said politely.</p>
<p>“However,” the judge continued, “it seems that you are the only person who could possibly have committed this heinous crime, and for that I have no choice but to pass down the harshest sentence applicable to the charge of murder in the first degree.”</p>
<p>The cold, hard pooling of dread had returned full force, and Phoenix could feel it freezing his body from the inside out.</p>
<p>“This court hereby finds the defendant, Mr Hershel Layton-”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t be so hasty if I were you, Your Honour.”</p>
<p>There it was.</p>
<p>That soft, gentlemanly smile.</p>
<p>“Excuse me?” It was hard to blame the judge for being so dumbfounded at his defendant cutting him off mid-verdict.</p>
<p>When Layton finally looked up from under the brim of his hat, his eyes were glinting with indisputable wickedness.</p>
<p>“After all,” he said, “how can you pass down a sentence on a man who does not exist?”</p>
<p>All Phoenix saw was a blur of black.</p>
<p>The flourish of flowing fabric. </p>
<p>The glinting of gold buttons in the pale daylight.</p>
<p>And then, just like that, a black coat slumped to the floor, devoid of the man who had been wearing it not five seconds prior.</p>
<p>Professor Layton was gone.</p>
<p>Gone.</p>
<p>The defendant was gone.</p>
<p>The defendant had escaped. Run away. Fled to who knows where.</p>
<p>“I say!” the judge shouted somewhere in the distance. “What on earth?!”</p>
<p>Phoenix struggled to stay standing.</p>
<p>“Where did he go?” yelled someone else. “Where did that bastard run off to?!”</p>
<p>His heart was pounding. His stomach ached and churned. He felt sick. Sicker than he had in months.</p>
<p>“How the heck did he do that?!”</p>
<p>He clutched a hand to his abdomen, knees buckling underneath him as his lungs tightened, forcing the air out of his body even as he gasped to get it back.</p>
<p>“I didn’t see anything! He was just here one moment and-”</p>
<p>The defendant had vanished. Never to be seen again. Leaving him behind. Leaving his daughter behind. Abandoning them. Leaving them alone to pick up the pieces of the shattered remains of their lives.</p>
<p>“Hey! Over here!”</p>
<p>“What? What do you see?”</p>
<p>“Outside! Down on the street! Heading for the bridge! That bastard’s getting away and he has that little girl with him!”</p>
<p>He couldn’t do this.</p>
<p>Not here. Not now. Not again.</p>
<p>Dear god, <em>he couldn’t do this again</em>.</p>
<p>“Stop them! Someone get after them!”</p>
<p>“Officers! Ray! Ven! Hurry!”</p>
<p>His whole body was burning. Every muscle screamed. His own lungs were trying to destroy him, his heart was hammering in his ears, his stomach twisting and churning as he desperately tried to <em>breathe</em>-</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?”</p>
<p>Somewhere in the background, Luke was calling his name.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, look at me!” the poor boy cried. “Can you hear me? Say something!”</p>
<p>But Phoenix couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even move anymore.</p>
<p>“Oh no, not again! Dr Wallace, help me!”</p>
<p>There wasn’t anything he could do.</p>
<p>It was over.</p>
<p>He was done for.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Trucy’s boots crunched in the snow and squeaked on the damp wood as she ran onto the bridge.</p>
<p>She knew what she had to do. She’d run it through her head a million times and practised it a million more. All she needed was to get away. Get to a safe hiding place and wait for it all to die down before heading to security and safety.</p>
<p>“Stop right there!”</p>
<p>Oh no. Anyone but <em>them</em>.</p>
<p>“That neighbourhood’s a dead end!”</p>
<p>She’d recognise those horrifying voices anywhere.</p>
<p>“There’s nowhere for you to run!” they both shouted together.</p>
<p>Time to turn the tables.</p>
<p>She gave a flourish of her cloak as she spun on her heels to face them, and that was when they noticed the true nature of the figure she carried with her.</p>
<p>That he didn’t have legs and, more importantly, that he was carved from wood.</p>
<p>Their identical faces fell, eyes wide in shock.</p>
<p>“What?!” one of them gasped.</p>
<p>Trucy didn’t wait a second longer.</p>
<p>“Alaka-ZAM!”</p>
<p>She threw the snowballs she had been carrying as hard as she could. The twins cried out in shock as they were slapped with the cold powder and, while they stumbled and spluttered, Trucy turned and ran the rest of the way across the bridge.</p>
<p>When she reached the other side, she jumped over the edge. The side of the gorge was a steep slope, but it was just shallow enough for her to comfortably stand with one white-gloved hand hidden by the colour of the snow, holding her in place so that she didn’t fall down.</p>
<p>“Where did she go?” she heard one of the officers shout.</p>
<p>“I don’t know!” the other replied. “I couldn’t see a damned thing!”</p>
<p>They couldn’t see her or Mr Hat. Thank <em>goodness</em> it was still snowing. The last thing she needed was for them to find her footprints.</p>
<p>“Damn it all,” she heard one of them sigh. “That Professor bastard-”</p>
<p>“-takes priority?” the other finished. “Yeah, let’s head back. He’s more important than that kid.”</p>
<p>Wow, even when she couldn’t see them, they were creepy as heck.</p>
<p>She waited until the crunching of their footsteps had faded out of earshot, signalling that they were long gone, before pulling herself and Mr Hat back up onto the bridge just in time to see their dark forms disappear into the snow.</p>
<p>Okay. She’d shaken them.</p>
<p>Time to take cover.</p>
<p>She reached into her bag as she hurried to the cottage the Professor had indicated to her and pulled out the key he’d provided her with. A quick glance over her shoulder informed her that nobody else was following her. Nobody else could see her.</p>
<p>The door clicked open and she darted inside, and the moment that door had been closed, she finally allowed herself to breathe.</p>
<p>She’d made it!</p>
<p>The only thing she could think was <em>phew</em>.</p>
<p>Yes, her ears were cold from being exposed to the open air, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Sometimes magic had to be performed in the snow and that was something a master magician had to get used to.</p>
<p>Maybe she could put together a show for the village if they ever managed to get the truth out and clear the Professor’s name…</p>
<p>Well, that was something to think about later. Right now she needed, ironically, to cool down.</p>
<p>It was a shame the Professor probably wouldn’t let her keep his hat. Maybe it was just because Mr Hat already looked like him so much, but it really rather suited him.</p>
<p>If she could convince Layton to join Troupe Gramarye, they could add Mr Hat coming to life to their arsenal of tricks.</p>
<p>In any case, she reluctantly reached up and removed the hat from her puppet’s head, then folded him up and put him away in the special compartment that only her Dad had ever known about. That in itself had been hilarious. Not even Uncle Valant had known where Mr Hat came from!</p>
<p>Once that was done, she looked down at the hat again.</p>
<p>It was undoubtedly made of silk. Several years old by this point, but it looked to have been well cared for. The only sign of wearing was the softened colour of the red band that sat just above the brim. It must have been a brilliant shade of scarlet when it was new, but now it was a deeper, gentler shade that admittedly suited the Professor better than anything as bright as that.</p>
<p>The question now was that if he really wasn’t a stage magician, what was he doing with a top hat? It didn’t seem like the sort of thing a person would just buy for themselves unless they had some aesthetic they were aiming for, and Professor Layton just didn’t seem the type for that. He wore a <em>polo shirt</em>, for heaven’s sake.</p>
<p>Maybe, once all of this had blown over, she could ask him again why he wore it, and he might tell her when they didn’t have imprisonment or missing friends hanging over their heads.</p>
<p>Yes, that would be nice.</p>
<p>And maybe it would cheer her father up as well.</p>
<p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p>
<p>The sound of the door opening scared Trucy out of her wits, but she sighed when she noticed that it was just her latest assistant making his return.</p>
<p>“Professor, you made it!” she breathed.</p>
<p>“Of course I did,” Layton replied, and he gave her a tip of her hat. “A gentleman should never allow himself to be unlawfully convicted, after all.”</p>
<p>He pulled the bright red cloak from his shoulders and folded it over his arm.</p>
<p>“Are you alright, Trucy?” he asked. “Did you run into any trouble?”</p>
<p>“Those cops chased me to the bridge, but I’m an expert with throwing knives,” Trucy replied proudly, “so snowballs are easy. I got away while they were wiping the powder out of their eyes.”</p>
<p>“Excellent work,” the Professor said happily as he handed her the cloak. “It isn’t a statement I ever thought I would say, but you make a surprisingly good fugitive. May I have my hat back now, please?”</p>
<p>“Sure!” Trucy held up the headwear for him to take. “Here you go!”</p>
<p>The switching of the hats was almost too fast for her to see, but Layton blew out a sigh of relief once he had his own hat back.</p>
<p>“How did Mr Hat’s cloak suit you?” Trucy asked.</p>
<p>“I’d like to know what material it’s woven from,” said Layton, and he moved past Trucy to sit on one of the couches in the nearby lounge area. “On a day like this, it’s surprisingly warm. Especially when one has to be deprived of their coat.”</p>
<p>Trucy couldn’t help but laugh as she deposited the cloak on the dining table to put back on Mr Hat later.</p>
<p>“I’m glad it kept you comfy!” she said as she went to join him. “Did anyone see you?”</p>
<p>“It would appear not,” Layton replied as she hopped up onto the other couch that sat parallel to the first. “I thank my lucky stars that this place was a mining town. From what I could tell as I found my way through the darkness, it would appear that these hills are riddled with abandoned tunnels.”</p>
<p>He gave Trucy a mischievous wink of the kind she usually dished out herself.</p>
<p>“Perfect for if one wished to avoid a wrongful sentence,” he joked.</p>
<p>Something about that caused a lightbulb to flare up in Trucy’s mind.</p>
<p>“Ooh!” she gasped, and reached into her bag. “Speaking of law, I got into the police station while nobody was in there and I got these back for you!”</p>
<p>She pulled out what she had stolen from under the creepy officer’s desk: a bulging white business envelope and a small handheld lantern.</p>
<p>The Professor blinked at them in amazement.</p>
<p>“Young lady,” he said, “it’s bad enough that you’ve made yourself an accessory to what basically amounts to a prison break at this point. I didn’t want you to go and commit theft on top of all of that.”</p>
<p>“But is it really stealing if it wasn’t theirs to begin with?” Trucy pointed out.</p>
<p>Although he was still very obviously confused, Layton took his precious items from her hands and neatly positioned the lantern on the couch seat beside him.</p>
<p>“I worry sometimes about what Mr Wright has been teaching you,” he commented as he opened the envelope.</p>
<p>Trucy couldn’t help laughing again.</p>
<p>“All Daddy teaches me is how to follow the law and be a good person!” she assured him.</p>
<p>But instead of smiling again like she had hoped she would, the Professor froze midway through rifling among the envelope’s contents.</p>
<p>He gently rested it down beside the lantern.</p>
<p>“Trucy,” he said, and he leaned forward, elbows on his legs. “I wonder if perhaps you could tell me something.”</p>
<p>“Tell you what?” Trucy wasn’t sure if she liked where this was going. “What is it?”</p>
<p>“As you know, I met your father in the past,” said the Professor. “I remember him as a man of quite admirable character. He was patient and considerate and loyal to the point of stubbornness. Forgive me for saying this, but he was nothing like the person who stood in my defence not one hour prior.”</p>
<p>Trucy’s heart sank.</p>
<p>“Huh?” It felt like it would be best to pretend like she didn’t know what he meant. “Professor, what are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“You’re a very bright young girl, Trucy,” said Layton. “You really must forgive me if it seems like I’m intruding, but I wonder if you could tell me what happened to your father? What caused him to become so standoffish? So, for want of a better word, bitter?”</p>
<p>Trucy didn’t reply.</p>
<p>Even if she had, she didn’t know what she would say.</p>
<p>In spite of how kind he was, this was only her third day of knowing the Professor. She barely knew him. Yes, he had apparently been friends with her dad, but Dad hadn’t even mentioned him in the two years since they said they had met.</p>
<p>Could she really trust him with something like this?</p>
<p>Maybe it would be better to talk about it with somebody she didn’t know all that well, but she didn’t want to weigh anyone down with stuff like that. Yes, this guy insisted on being some kind of Impeccable English Gentleman, but was that all an act? Or was he actually some massive jerk who’d call Trucy childish and her father an idiot?</p>
<p>“If you don’t know, then you’re welcome not to tell me,” he said before she could make up her mind. “Or if you feel as though it would be better explained by Mr Wright himself, then I’m sure he would listen to you if you requested he do so. Please know that all I want is to help him. I promise you, Trucy. I don’t mean you or your father any harm.”</p>
<p>But he was so <em>nice</em>.</p>
<p>Surely she could trust him, right?</p>
<p>Trucy took a deep breath. She could already feel a painful lump getting hard in her throat.</p>
<p>“…well…” How to word this in a way that made sense? “…Daddy’s always been sad. All the time I’ve known him, he’s been really sad.”</p>
<p>She tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about the sadness she saw in his eyes every minute of every day.</p>
<p>“He tries to hide it from me by smiling and making sandwiches and taking me on vacations to Britain,” she explained, “but I’ve always been good at reading people. I can tell when they’re hiding things from me, like when I pointed it out in the trials today and yesterday.”</p>
<p>She tried to swallow the lump.</p>
<p>It didn’t work.</p>
<p>“Daddy’s always sad,” she admitted. “He just doesn’t want me to know it.”</p>
<p>At least she was saying it to the Professor and not her father. She had no idea how he would react if he heard her saying all of this.</p>
<p>“I overheard yesterday that he had lost his job,” said Layton. “That he isn’t a true lawyer anymore. Is that what makes him so sad?”</p>
<p>Man, he really didn’t know, did he?</p>
<p>But he couldn’t just be told everything. Dad would <em>hate</em> her for that.</p>
<p>“Um…” What could she say to stop him from prying? “…maybe, but I don’t think that’s the only thing. I don’t know about all of it because he keeps it from me, and like I said, he’s always been sad, but lately he’s been…”</p>
<p>Heartbroken. Depressed. Constantly exhausted. There was never a moment when he didn’t look like he wanted to either cry or go to sleep and never wake up.</p>
<p>“…I don’t know,” Trucy lied. “For the past few months or so, it’s like he got even sadder. I don’t know why and I don’t know if I can help, but I want to! I don’t want Daddy to be so sad all the time! But I don’t know what I can do to help him feel better and I…”</p>
<p>Her face was growing warmer by the second and her vision was fuzzing up with tears.</p>
<p>“…I don’t know if he even really wants it.”</p>
<p>She wiped her eyes on the back of her glove and sniffed.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Trucy. Here.” Something white appeared in her vision. “You have my apologies. I didn’t mean to upset you.”</p>
<p>It was a handkerchief. She could see a small top hat containing the letter L monogrammed in a corner.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Professor,” she said, and she took the handkerchief to wipe her eyes. “I know you didn’t mean to.”</p>
<p>She considered blowing her nose, but thought better of it. No way did she want to get snot all over something so pretty.</p>
<p>“Does Mr Wright have any idea how terribly this situation is weighing on you?” Layton asked. “It seems like an awful lot for such a young girl to have to live with.”</p>
<p>“I can’t tell him!” Trucy cried. “It’ll just make him worse!”</p>
<p>She wiped her eyes again and passed the handkerchief back.</p>
<p>“I understand your hesitation,” the Professor said as he folded it into quarters, “but you won’t know that unless you try, will you?”</p>
<p>He slipped his handkerchief back into his pocket.</p>
<p>“The two of you are clearly very close with one-another,” he said, “and I couldn’t bear to see you driving wedges between each other. Can you promise me that you’ll try to talk to your father, Trucy?”</p>
<p>No wonder Dad had been friends with this guy.</p>
<p>Trucy couldn’t even remember the last time she had met somebody so unashamedly <em>kind</em>. Maybe Uncle Larry, but he was a bit too ditzy to be doing it deliberately.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath and nodded.</p>
<p>“I promise,” she said.</p>
<p>The sight of the Professor smiling almost made her want to smile as well.</p>
<p>“That’s better,” he said. “Mr Wright is certainly lucky to have a daughter as sweet as you.”</p>
<p>It only took a moment for Trucy to be overwhelmed by the need to squeeze something, and the need to be squeezed in return. She felt like she could die if she didn’t get that <em>immediately</em>.</p>
<p>“Can I please hug you?” she asked.</p>
<p>To her relief, the Professor only smiled more.</p>
<p>“Of course,” he said.</p>
<p>Trucy didn’t hesitate. She jumped out of her seat and dived forward to throw her arms around the Professor and clutched him as tight as she could while he, thank goodness, wrapped his arms around her in return.</p>
<p>“I knew way back on the train that I could talk to you,” she told him. “I knew it as soon as I saw your hat!”</p>
<p>“Indeed,” she heard Layton chuckle. “Us top hat aficionados have to stick together.”</p>
<p>He gave her a pat on the back before relaxing his arms from around her, and she hopped back and landed flat on her feet on the floor.</p>
<p>“Do you feel better?” he asked.</p>
<p>Trucy finally managed to swallow the lump and wiped her eyes one last time.</p>
<p>“I do,” she replied. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>The Professor gave her a friendly tip of the hat.</p>
<p>“You’re very welcome,” he said.</p>
<p>Before either he or Trucy had a chance to say another word, the door opened again in a rush of snowflakes and cold wind.</p>
<p>“Professor!” shouted a familiar voice. “Help me!”</p>
<p>“Luke!” Layton jumped to his feet and ran to his apprentice’s side. “Are you alright? What happened?”</p>
<p>It was only then that the image in front of Trucy properly processed through her mind. The image of Luke struggling to shut the door as the Professor took her father off his shoulders and pulled him over to the couch.</p>
<p>“Daddy?” She ran over to him as he collapsed onto the pillows. “Dad, are you okay?”</p>
<p>He didn’t respond. His eyes slowly opened and shut and his jaw hung slack, like he was trying to fight off sleep and losing the battle.</p>
<p>“Dad!” She jumped onto his lap and shook him by the shoulders. “Daddy, say something!”</p>
<p>Still nothing.</p>
<p>He didn’t even look her in the face.</p>
<p>“When you vanished, he had another panic attack,” Luke explained. “I didn’t know what I could do, so I asked Dr Wallace for help and he gave Mr Wright a muscle relaxant. It calmed him down, but I think it worked a bit, um, too well. I brought your coat back as well, Professor, so I’ll just hang it by the door.”</p>
<p>As Luke ran over to the hooks beside the door, the Professor sat down on the couch beside Phoenix.</p>
<p>“Can you hear me, Mr Wright?” he asked. “Do you know where you are?”</p>
<p>Dad’s eyes remained glazed over as he turned his head to face the Professor.</p>
<p>“...sssssh…” he spat. “…sssssh-sh-shut up…”</p>
<p>It was almost as if he was drunk. Trucy hadn’t seen him like this since that time Uncle Larry came over with a full crate of beers under one arm. Hopefully this didn’t mean he was going to start crying again.</p>
<p>“Daddy, you’re safe!” she told him. “You’re in the Professor’s cottage that he’s-”</p>
<p>“Sssssh!” hissed Luke. “Keep it down! We can’t let anybody know you’re here!”</p>
<p>He ran to the kitchen window and looked out into the village.</p>
<p>“We’re all in enough trouble as it is without harbouring fugitives on top of everything else!” he pointed out.</p>
<p>“Sorry!” Trucy jumped down from her dad’s lap and took his hand. “Daddy, don’t worry, alright? Everything’s going to be okay!”</p>
<p>“I don’t know about that.” Luke drew the kitchen window’s thin curtains. “Professor, to say your disappearance caused an uproar would be putting it <em>very</em> lightly.” He hurried to the door and stood on tiptoe to look through its window. “If anything, we’ve just convinced everyone even <em>more</em> that you’re guilty! I don’t know if we can…”</p>
<p>The way he trailed off gave a distinct impression that he was seeing something terrible.</p>
<p>“Oh dear,” he said. “Professor. Trucy. <em>Hide</em>.”</p>
<p>“Huh? Why?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>“The mayor’s headed this way!” Luke waved his hand at them. “Get to- in the bathroom! Quickly!”</p>
<p>Trucy turned and ran for the bathroom door that sat across the entrance area from the front door. She darted inside and the Professor swung in behind her and shut the door just in time for them to hear the front door open.</p>
<p>“Good afternoon, your…” they heard Luke say. “…um, your mayorship.”</p>
<p>Layton pressed his ear to the door, leading Trucy to follow suit.</p>
<p>“Good afternoon, young man,” she heard a woman’s voice say. “Luke, isn’t it? The Professor spoke awfully highly of you. My apologies for not being able to speak to you directly just earlier, but that truly was a terrible fiasco, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>Her voice sounded familiar somehow. Like if Ms Skellig from the trial was a few years older.</p>
<p>“Yes, I know,” said Luke. “I’m really sorry. I promise you I had no idea that was going to happen. I can’t believe Professor Layton would just run away like that!”</p>
<p>“Indeed, he pulled quite the vanishing act,” said the woman he was talking to. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought his PhD was in stage magic rather than archaeology!”</p>
<p>Even her laugh sounded similar, high-pitched and melodic, like a bird song. Trucy heard Luke laughing as well, although he sounded far more nervous and awkward.</p>
<p>“Did you have any trouble getting back here?” she heard the woman ask. “Mr Wright looked awfully heavy on your shoulders.”</p>
<p>“Um, the muscle relaxant did make him rather, well…” It was hard to resist opening the door for a look. “…floppy, but I made it back okay. How about you? Any sign of Trucy or the Professor?”</p>
<p>“The citizens of Fatargan shan’t rest until both of them are found,” the woman replied. “Rest assured, young man. I shall personally see to it that Mr Layton gets exactly what he deserves.”</p>
<p>Trucy gulped.</p>
<p>Even at her tender age, she could tell when a sentence was loaded, and what that woman had just said was comparable to a fully stocked freight train.</p>
<p>“Okay, well,” she heard Luke say, “I’d better let you get back to that. Please let me know the moment you find something!”</p>
<p>“I shall make sure that you are the first to know,” said the woman. “Do stay safe, young Luke. We haven’t long until the sun goes down, after all.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” said Luke. “Good luck!”</p>
<p>And once Trucy and the Professor heard the front door shut, they emerged.</p>
<p>Luke was still standing by the door. When he turned back to them, his expression was a frown of unmistakable despair.</p>
<p>It pretty much summed up how Trucy felt about this entire situation.</p>
<p>Now all she could do was just sit and wait for her dad to wake up…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Thin Air part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was already rather cold.</p>
<p>A glance at the nearby window informed the Professor that it was still snowing outside. The radiator had been enough to keep them all warm so far, but perhaps it would be a good idea for them to set up a fire.</p>
<p>His gaze wandered across to Luke, who was sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the window. The curtains were still drawn, but they were thin enough to see the snow drifting past the glass. A rather meditative view, now that he paused to think about it.</p>
<p>Hopefully they were enough to make sure that anybody looking through didn’t see who was inside.</p>
<p>Not that there was a great deal to see right now, what with Trucy using the bathroom.</p>
<p>Having finished looking around, Layton returned to his book. He wanted to know if poor Christine managed to make it through her crisis. Surely she’d be able to put it together that the Phantom wasn’t the ghost of her father now that she had Raoul’s support.</p>
<p>“Ugh…”</p>
<p>He looked up just in time to see Phoenix pressing a hand to his head.</p>
<p>“…oh god, what…”</p>
<p>His groan was faint and weak, but at the very least, he was speaking coherently.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Mr Wright.” Layton slipped his bookmark in to mark his place as he closed his book. “Well, good evening, I should say. How do you feel?”</p>
<p>Phoenix pressed his hands into his face. He rubbed his eyes so hard that it almost looked painful.</p>
<p>“…like an eighteen-wheeler just ran over my head,” he sighed.</p>
<p>“One moment.” Layton laid his book down and got up. “You’ve been drifting in and out for around three hours now. Let me get you a glass of water.”</p>
<p>“…thanks,” Phoenix breathed.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” Luke looked over from the window as the Professor pulled a glass out of the cupboard above the fridge. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>While Layton filled the glass at the sink, Phoenix let out another low, weak groan of exhaustion.</p>
<p>“…I don’t think so…” he replied.</p>
<p>The Professor turned around just in time for Trucy to emerge from the bathroom and see that her father was no longer slumped and limp on the sofa.</p>
<p>“Oh my gosh, Dad!” She ran over to him and leaped over the back of the sofa. “Dad, you’re awake!”</p>
<p>“Yeah…” Phoenix did nothing to prevent her from seizing and hugging his arm. “…yeah, maybe, I’m getting there…”</p>
<p>The poor man looked as though he could pass out at any second. Layton approached as quickly as he could without spilling the water.</p>
<p>“Here,” he said, and offered Phoenix the glass. “Normally I’d be more inclined to offer you a cup of tea, but under circumstances such as these, I think you’d do better at handling water.”</p>
<p>He made sure Phoenix had a stable grip on the glass before he released it.</p>
<p>“You haven’t eaten or drunk anything for several hours by now, after all,” he pointed out as he sat back down. “You must be frightfully thirsty.”</p>
<p>“…thank you,” Phoenix replied.</p>
<p>He put the glass to his lips and threw his head back. Within seconds, the water was drained and he slumped forward again.</p>
<p>“Oooh,” he sighed. “That feels better.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Mr Wright.” As Trucy had before him, Luke climbed over the back of the sofa and sat down beside the Professor. “It’s my fault that happened to you. Do you remember it? The end of the trial?”</p>
<p>Phoenix rubbed his eyes again. Layton held back from warning him that he was going to hurt himself.</p>
<p>“Uh, could you remind me?” he asked drowsily. “I’m trying, but it’s a bit fuzzy. Can’t quite figure it out.”</p>
<p>Luke tugged on his jumper’s collar.</p>
<p>“Well, um…” he said nervously. “…we lost. The judge and Ms Skellig didn’t believe us and they thought we’d brought Sir Edgar, the owl, to testify as some kind of joke.”</p>
<p>“So we executed my plan, remember?” said Trucy. “The vanishing trick!”</p>
<p>Her father finally found the energy to muster up a facial expression. Unfortunately it was a frown.</p>
<p>“…oh yeah,” he said softly. “That.”</p>
<p>He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.</p>
<p>It would be best to pull him back up before he became completely unresponsive again.</p>
<p>“But Luke tells us that you had another panic attack and had to be tranquilised,” Layton told him.</p>
<p>That, thankfully, caused Phoenix to look up. Yes, he was wide-eyed, slack-jawed and very clearly horrified, but at least it was <em>something</em>.</p>
<p>“What?!” he spat.</p>
<p>Had that been a step too far?</p>
<p>“Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t have phrased it quite like that,” Layton considered.</p>
<p>“No, I don’t think he was tranquilised,” Luke agreed, but his composure didn’t last for long. “I’m so sorry, Mr Wright! I didn’t know what else to do! All I could think of was to ask Dr Wallace for help and he gave you a muscle relaxant! You’ve been coming and going for hours! I was worried you were having an allergic reaction!”</p>
<p>Phoenix pulled his arm out of Trucy’s grip and hugged her close instead.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry,” he said numbly. “I don’t think I have any allergies.”</p>
<p>“Oh, thank goodness!” Luke sighed as he slumped back onto the sofa.</p>
<p>“Do you think you’ll be okay, Daddy?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>Phoenix rubbed his face again with a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan.</p>
<p>“I feel less like dying now that I’ve had a drink,” he replied with a wry smirk. “Does that help?”</p>
<p>“Dad, I’m serious!” Trucy snapped. “I was so worried!”</p>
<p>She looked up at her father’s face with eyes as wide as soup plates.</p>
<p>To Layton’s relief, Phoenix seemed to soften at the sight. His smirk slipped away and he stroked his daughter’s hair, and she leaned in for a closer cuddle.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I’m okay, Trucy-Goosy. I promise.”</p>
<p>He somehow managed to tear himself away from her big baby blues and looked around at the cottage. Layton had half a mind to ask him to take his hat off now that they were inside, but to do that would just seem hypocritical.</p>
<p>“So this is your place, huh? Not bad,” Phoenix commented.</p>
<p>“It’s small, I know,” said Layton, “but I had believed it would suit our needs well enough. Had I known we were going to be hosting guests, I would have considered asking if any larger houses with more than two bedrooms were available.”</p>
<p>Phoenix suddenly froze.</p>
<p>“…oh yeah,” he said softly. “I guess we can’t go back to the inn right now, can we?”</p>
<p>“We’re sorry, Mr Wright,” said Luke. “You and I should probably be alright, but the Professor and Trucy are technically fugitives right now. Unless we manage to contact somebody outside the village, I’m not sure we’d be able to sort this mess out at all.”</p>
<p>“I had considered calling the Yard,” the Professor added as Phoenix dug into his pocket, “but I wanted to wait until you were back with us. I didn’t know if there were any persons you may wish to speak to while I had the line.”</p>
<p>Out of his pocket, Phoenix produced a rather outdated-looking phone that he beeped into life and he scrutinised the screen with ferocious intensity, but it wasn’t long before he tutted and frowned.</p>
<p>“No signal,” he muttered, and he repocketed the phone and turned back to Layton. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t. There are a couple of people I know who have homes in mainland Europe, but I don’t know if either of them would be happy to see me. One of them I <em>know</em> wouldn’t be happy.”</p>
<p>“Oooh!” cried Trucy. “You mean that Ms von Karma lady, right?”</p>
<p>“That’s the one,” Phoenix replied. “I don’t even want to know what she’d do to me if we ran into each other.”</p>
<p>“You said ‘miss’ von Karma, didn’t you?” asked Luke. “Is she an ex-girlfriend of yours?”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t reply.</p>
<p>He covered his mouth and snorted so hard that it sounded painful while Trucy erupted into uncontrollable laughter.</p>
<p>“Apparently not,” Layton commented.</p>
<p>“Von Karma, von Karma…” Luke stroked his chin as he processed the name. “Do you mean like Manfred von Karma? That prosecutor who turned out to be the culprit responsible for a 15-year-old cold case?”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Phoenix stared at Luke in confusion. “How do you know about <em>that?!</em>”</p>
<p>Luke nervously clasped his hands in his lap.</p>
<p>“I, um…” He couldn’t have cleared his throat more awkwardly if he’d tried. “I watch a lot of true crime documentaries in my spare time. They’ve got feature-length pieces available for free if you look online in the right places.”</p>
<p>He pressed his hands between his legs and peered up at the window as if he wanted to look anywhere but at the people sitting across from him.</p>
<p>“I remember I watched one not long ago about…” He hummed in thought. “I think it was the VL-6 Incident? The one about fifteen years ago where the cops tried to use a spirit medium to catch the killer.”</p>
<p>“Close,” said Phoenix. “It was DL-6.”</p>
<p>“Ah, I should have expected you to know that, Mr Wright,” Layton spoke up before Luke could feel any more anxious. “They must have covered that case during your studies prior to your taking the bar, correct?”</p>
<p>Trucy cast a concerned look up at her father. Phoenix, for his part, seemed to remain neutral.</p>
<p>“Something like that,” he replied.</p>
<p>A reply that gave a very distinct air of dishonesty, of knowing more than he wanted to let on, but it was clear by now that he wouldn’t respond positively if he was pressed for more information. With that in mind, Layton decided to leave it undiscussed.</p>
<p>“That documentary actually featured video footage of the supposed spirit channelling,” Luke recalled. “I don't know if it was real or not, but the woman’s voice changed and…” Again, he stared blankly at the wall. “I wonder if it must have been genuine, because she kept asking about her son. Where he was and if he was okay. But the lady herself apparently only had daughters.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t pay it too much mind, Luke,” Layton reassured him. “Most self-proclaimed psychics are only interested in fame and fortune. Odds are that whoever that woman was, the only thing she was truly interested in was bolstering her business.”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” said the still-nervous Luke. “What do you think, Mr Wright?”</p>
<p>Phoenix failed to reply.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” Luke repeated.</p>
<p>He sat on the sofa with his eyes closed and his hands curling into fists. When he opened his eyes again, he didn’t meet anybody’s gaze.</p>
<p>“…um…” was all he said.</p>
<p>“Can we not talk about it?” Trucy leaned in closer to properly hug her father. “Daddy doesn’t really like to remember that stuff.”</p>
<p>Ah yes, there it was. Best to drop the subject before it could make anybody else uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“Of course,” said Layton. “That’s perfectly understandable. From what little I’ve heard of the case, it wasn’t what I would call pleasant.”</p>
<p>Phoenix still didn’t reply. Not to that at least. He ran his hand over his head as though to check that he was still wearing that eye-searing hat and looked up at the window.</p>
<p>“What time is it?” he asked. “Has it really only been three hours? Feels more like thirty.”</p>
<p>Layton looked up at the wall clock that had been thoughtfully positioned above the front door.</p>
<p>“It’s a quarter past six in the evening,” he explained. “I’m afraid I haven’t made any dinner preparations because I have no idea what you or your daughter like, Mr Wright.”</p>
<p>He pressed himself up off the sofa and rounded the dining table.</p>
<p>“Not only that,” he added as he opened one of the kitchen cupboards, “but I don’t know if our cupboards or fridge are well-stocked enough for a meal for four.” He extracted and examined an unopened packet of custard cremes. “We have plenty of biscuits for tea, but I’d hesitate to call that a meal.”</p>
<p>“I told you, Professor, we aren’t picky!” insisted Trucy as Layton moved on to the next cupboard. “Daddy and I have had a whole bunch of take-out and frozen stuff in the past couple of years, so my stomach’s basically made of stone by now. Whatever you’ve got, we can take it!”</p>
<p>“Uh…” the Professor heard Luke say. “…okay.”</p>
<p>After moving a bag of instant oats and a box of Shreddies aside, Layton found a few orange-labelled tins at the back of the cupboard.</p>
<p>“Ah, it looks like we have some beans,” he reported as he pulled them out. “How about a round of beans on toast?”</p>
<p>“Wait a minute.” He looked around to see Phoenix staring at him. “Beans as in baked beans? In tomato sauce? On <em>toast?</em>”</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, it’s an English classic!” argued Luke as Layton pulled out the tins. “Just like Yorkshire pudding and beef wellington!”</p>
<p>“Next you’ll be telling us you don’t even know what Battenberg cake is,” the Professor remarked as he searched the drawers for a tin opener.</p>
<p>He could still feel Phoenix’s eyes on the back of his head.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what Battenberg cake is,” he said.</p>
<p>Layton heard Luke tut in disappointment.</p>
<p>“Unbelievable,” the teen sighed.</p>
<p>“Hey, we’re American!” Trucy pointed out. “You can’t expect us to know all about English foods, that’s unfair!”</p>
<p>“In any case, it’s the most filling thing that we seem to have,” Layton said, and he pulled a half-used loaf out of the breadbin. “Would either of you like cheese on yours? Beans on toast is a treat with cheese.”</p>
<p>“Uh…” Phoenix seemed somehow even more bemused at the suggestion. “Trucy?”</p>
<p>Trucy didn’t say anything. Even if she had tried, the sudden blast of growling from her stomach would have drowned her out and done all the talking for her.</p>
<p>“…yes please,” Phoenix translated.</p>
<p>Layton slapped the tin opener on one of the tins and started cranking.</p>
<p>“I hope we can try some Battenberg cake before you guys go back to America,” said Luke. “Or some spotted dick! It’s delicious with custard!”</p>
<p>“Spotted <em>what?!</em>” cried Trucy.</p>
<p>Phoenix sighed again.</p>
<p>“I feel like you Brits are just messing with us now,” he groaned.</p>
<p>The Professor just smiled and kept opening the tin.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Once he was done setting down his cutlery, Phoenix sighed and leaned back over his chair.</p>
<p>“Man,” he said, “that was way better than I’d expected.”</p>
<p>“I told you!” said Luke. “I told you it was really good!”</p>
<p>“I don’t think I can remember the last time I had beans on toast,” Layton remarked as Trucy took her last mouthful. “I think it was in a café around… two, maybe three years ago? It was before you left, Luke, I remember that much.”</p>
<p>Trucy gulped so hard it almost sounded painful.</p>
<p>“I bet they don’t have food that good in prison, huh?” she joked.</p>
<p>“Hey, don’t jinx it,” snapped Phoenix as the Professor stood up. “For all we know, those cops could come calling and they’ll drag you back to their station for aiding a fugitive.”</p>
<p>“Oh, goodness no.” Layton collected the plates and piled the knives and forks on top of the stack. “I’m not sure if a child like you would be able to handle their interrogation methods.”</p>
<p>“What did they do, Professor?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>Layton stacked the plates in the sink and turned the tap on before rolling up his sleeves.</p>
<p>“They didn’t do anything physical, don’t worry,” he responded as he squirted detergent into the remains of the sauce. “I shan’t have to file any complaints regarding police brutality.”</p>
<p>As soon as there was enough water in the sink, he took up a cloth and started cleaning the plates.</p>
<p>“They sat me down in that questioning room,” he explained as he cleaned, “and asked me over and over again if I had ‘done it’ as they so eloquently phrased it. I must have said no at least fifty times before the one that was questioning me ultimately said ‘it was you, wasn’t it?’ Quite maddening, to say the least.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god…” The distinct sounds of bones on wood and skin on skin signified to Layton that Phoenix had leaned his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.</p>
<p>“That’s ridiculous!” cried Luke. “They’d already just decided you were guilty? How dare they!”</p>
<p>“Wait, so Professor,” Trucy piped up, “didn’t you ever see both of those guys together?”</p>
<p>“I had no idea that the police station was staffed by twins until the trial today,” Layton replied as he stacked the clean plates in the rack beside the sink. “I can’t say if that makes me feel better or worse.”</p>
<p>“Well, one person accusing you verses two?” Luke pointed out. “I think it’s safe to say it’s worse.”</p>
<p>Maybe he had more to add, but before he got the opportunity, he was cut off by a knock at the door that caused every single person inside the cottage to freeze.</p>
<p>“<em>Hide!</em>” Luke whispered.</p>
<p>Layton yanked his hands out of the sink with a <em>plop</em> and he and Trucy fled to the bathroom again, with Luke hurrying past Layton, rolling up his sleeves, to dip his hands in the soapy water. Once they were in the bathroom, Trucy closed the door gently to avoid making noise and the Professor took the opportunity to dry his hands on a nearby towel.</p>
<p>As soon as that was done, he pressed his ear to the door just in time to hear the front door being opened.</p>
<p>“M-Ms Skellig!” he heard Luke stammer. “Good evening!”</p>
<p>“I bid you good evening, young Luke,” came the gentle, musical voice of Michaela Skellig, “and I hope that I find you well.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, I’m fine,” said Luke. “We’ve just had dinner and I was doing the washing up just now and everything’s perfectly alright now. We’re fine. We’re all fine here now, thank you. How are you?”</p>
<p>Layton looked down at Trucy and saw her grimacing at the conversation, and much as he hated to admit it, he understood her discomfort. Two years on and the poor boy still hadn’t got any better at acting natural when there were secrets to keep.</p>
<p>“I am afraid I do not have the best of news for you,” they heard Michaela say. “As you can see, the sun has set and night has fallen upon us, and as you may be able to hear, the Minstrel has reached the Pictish Shrine to serenade our village with his sumptuous tunes, but as I feel you may have realised by now, we are unable to set foot outside in the night due to the hostility of the Painted King and his horde should any of them be too greatly disturbed, save for those courageous few who would dare brave the cold for a visit to the King’s Arms.”</p>
<p>Once she had finished talking, Layton strained his ears to listen. It was ever so faint, but he could just about make out the sound of a violin being played somewhere outside. Almost too far away to be heard.</p>
<p>“So…” he heard Luke say. “…so then…”</p>
<p>“Indeed,” said Michaela. “I am afraid that we cannot continue searching for your friend the Professor, or for Mr Wright’s sweet little daughter. Is Mr Wright here? Mother told me that you had returned here with him over your shoulder.”</p>
<p>“Evening, Ms Michaela,” Phoenix spoke up. “You’re telling us you’re halting the search for my daughter?”</p>
<p>It seemed like he had a bit more experience in keeping secrets. Equal parts frightened and angry, yet noticeably restrained. If he really had lapsed as a lawyer, perhaps he could consider a career in acting.</p>
<p>“Only for tonight, Mr Wright,” replied the apparently oblivious Michaela, “and I promise you that we will resume full force the moment the sun has risen on our beautiful village. We shall not rest until your daughter and Professor Layton have been apprehended.”</p>
<p>“Apprehended, huh?” Phoenix spoke the words as though they were ash in his mouth.</p>
<p>“It is for their good as much as our own, Mr Wright,” Michaela calmly said, “as these mountains can be terribly dangerous during the night. We can only hope that they find shelter from the elements until we are once again illuminated by the sun’s gentle light.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure they will, Ms Skellig,” said Luke, most likely ignoring her flowery speech. “The Professor is the smartest man I know. He wouldn’t let a little thing like snow get in his way.”</p>
<p>Layton felt a swell of pride at the sound of Luke’s faith. What luck he had to have befriended such a kind and loyal young man.</p>
<p>“Your faith in him is extremely sweet, my friend,” said Michaela. “In any case, I must return to my own home before the cold grows too intense, and I wish you and Mr Wright good health, good luck and goodnight.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Ms Skellig,” Luke replied politely. “Thank you for keeping us abreast of the situation.”</p>
<p>And with that, Layton and Trucy heard the door being closed, and both heaved a sigh of relief as Trucy reopened the bathroom door.</p>
<p>“So they’re calling it quits?” asked Phoenix as they emerged.</p>
<p>“For tonight, at least,” said Luke. “Thank goodness.”</p>
<p>“Thank goodness those cops won’t be coming over,” said Trucy, pulling her cloak tight around her shoulders.</p>
<p>“You really are afraid of them, aren’t you?” Layton asked as he straightened his hat.</p>
<p>“I’m not afraid!” Trucy insisted. “I just think they’re weird! And they’re <em>creepy!</em>”</p>
<p>“Indeed,” said Layton, mostly to calm her down. “They do give a distinct impression of a single person in two bodies. What do you think, Mr Wright?”</p>
<p>For what had to be the fiftieth time that evening, Phoenix didn’t reply.</p>
<p>This time, however, his eyes were wide and his fists were clenched on the tabletop.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>Phoenix blinked.</p>
<p>“…I think…”</p>
<p>He sprang up from the table, knocking over his chair with the sudden movement as he ran to the kitchen window and tugged the curtain aside.</p>
<p>“Daddy?” Trucy trotted over to where he stood. “What is it?”</p>
<p>While Layton picked up the chair, Phoenix kept staring out the window.</p>
<p>“Good, she’s gone,” he said. “Just bear with me, I can’t help thinking…”</p>
<p>He ran to the front door and snatched up his jacket on the way past. He slipped his arms in and yanked the front door open again before zipping it up.</p>
<p>“What on earth?!” cried Luke as he ran over to the door. “Mr Wright, it’s freezing out there!”</p>
<p>“Ssh!” Phoenix hissed.</p>
<p>“Daddy, what’s wrong?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>“Shush!” Phoenix spat.</p>
<p>He looked out at the street outside, holding up a finger for silence.</p>
<p>The only sound, aside from a faint whistle of wind, was the distant, echoing trilling of the violin. Layton didn’t recognise the tune and, from Luke’s slack-jawed bafflement, neither did he, but Phoenix was staring out the door in abject horror.</p>
<p>“…no…” he muttered. “…no way, th-that <em>can’t</em> be.”</p>
<p>“Do you recognise the tune, Mr Wright?” the Professor asked just to be sure.</p>
<p>Phoenix threw the door aside and ran out into the snow.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?!” Luke snatched up his scarf and coat and tossed Layton his, and they both ran outside, pulling on their coats to protect themselves from the cold.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, what in the world is the matter?” Layton held the door open long enough for Trucy to hurry out with them.</p>
<p>“Daddy?” she said as she ran up to him.</p>
<p>Once the door had been securely closed, the Professor hurried over to where Phoenix was standing, staring out at the sky over the bridge that led to the rest of the village.</p>
<p>“…it is, but…” Phoenix whispered. “Oh <em>god</em>.”</p>
<p>He set off running again.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright!” shouted Luke.</p>
<p>Layton struggled to fasten the buttons on his coat as he ran to catch up with his desperate friend. He had to do it one handed, as he needed to keep his hat from flying off while he ran, but good lord, did he ever fumble. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke glancing around. It was hard to blame him. No doubt the poor boy was afraid they were being watched.</p>
<p>Thank goodness Phoenix hadn’t run very far. He stopped at the end of the bridge, clutching the lamppost that sat by its side and staring across, panting, at the main part of the village that sat on the other side of the gorge.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright!” Layton gasped for breath as they caught up. “Please! Tell us what’s wrong!”</p>
<p>His lungs and throat were freezing as he struggled to catch his breath. If only it wasn’t so horrifically <em>cold</em>…</p>
<p>“No, no, no, no, no,” Phoenix mumbled to himself. “No, it <em>can’t</em> be!”</p>
<p>“Daddy, what is it?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>“Trucy, shush!” hissed Phoenix. “Listen! Listen to that tune!”</p>
<p>Trucy frowned and looked across the bridge.</p>
<p>Luke glanced up at the Professor, which was enough to show the man that the pair of them were thinking on the same wavelength. Was there something here that they were supposed to know about? Were they meant to know what this tune was?</p>
<p>“Don’t you recognise it?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>Trucy took a step forward, moving towards the bridge.</p>
<p>“…that’s…” she said slowly. “…th-that show you like, isn’t this the theme song? The opening song?”</p>
<p>“Exactly!” cried Phoenix.</p>
<p>“You recognise the tune, Mr Wright?” Layton asked for the sake of clarification. “But what’s got you so bothered about it?”</p>
<p>“It’s…”</p>
<p>When Phoenix turned to look at the Professor, he was more wide-eyed and shaken than Layton had ever seen him before.</p>
<p>“Professor, I…” He swallowed, clearly trying to pick up the pieces of his fractured composure. “I think I know who the Minstrel is.”</p>
<p>“You do?!” Luke exclaimed.</p>
<p>“I said I <em>think</em> I do,” Phoenix snapped. “And I really, really, <em>seriously</em> hope I’m wrong.”</p>
<p>He wasn’t angry. Not anymore. He’d been angry for almost all of the time that Layton had shared with him during the past few days, but right now, he couldn’t see any of that. All that was left was pure, unadulterated <em>fear</em>.</p>
<p>Layton adjusted his hat by the brim.</p>
<p>“Then it’s your call, Mr Wright,” he responded. “Should we go up that mountain and see if your hunch is confirmed?”</p>
<p>Phoenix looked back down the bridge.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he said. “I want to. I really want to, but-”</p>
<p>“-but we might catch up with Ms Skellig if we move too quickly,” Luke finished for him, clutching his coat tight and peering around at the snow. “And what if we’re seen?”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t seem likely, my boy,” Layton replied as calmly as he could. “Recall how paranoid these villagers are about the spirits that supposedly reside in their village. Given the events of today, it wouldn’t surprise me if none of them so much as look out their windows, let alone set foot outside their doors. Honestly, I’m surprised that it wasn't brought up during the trial earlier.”</p>
<p>Phoenix whipped around to stare at him again.</p>
<p>“Yeah, that is a good point, I should’ve mentioned that!” he almost shouted.</p>
<p>“But we can worry about that later!” Trucy jumped up and grabbed her father’s arm. “Daddy, we should go! If it really is him then-”</p>
<p>“I know, I know!” snapped Phoenix. “We have to go up there! If it’s been him this whole time-”</p>
<p>“So you <em>do </em>know who it is?” Luke demanded.</p>
<p>“This village isn’t very large,” Layton pointed out, and he looked past Phoenix at the bridge. “Odds are Ms Skellig has already returned home by now. If we wish to find the source of that music, we should hurry. It’s true we’re unlikely to be seen, but I don’t want to risk it.”</p>
<p>“Good call,” said Phoenix, taking Trucy’s hand. “Let’s move!”</p>
<p>He ran across the bridge, the wood squeaking as the snow was shifted and the wet surface underneath exposed, with Trucy pulled behind him and Luke and the Professor hot on his heels, struggling to keep up. They didn’t pause for breath until they were passing the bell tower, at which point Phoenix halted them and motioned for them to take cover on the steps leading up to the post office.</p>
<p>He ran to the side of the rock face and peered past it at the police station, then beckoned with his finger. It was safe.</p>
<p>Trucy ran over to him and took his hand again and together, the four of them hurried past the station and the Sacred Well and under the stone that bridged the hills that supported the town hall and the Skellig residence.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until they reached the corner of the King’s Arms that they paused again, and the Professor supported himself on the side of the building to catch his breath.</p>
<p>Phoenix shielded his eyes from the streetlamps and looked up at the sheer stone ridge that loomed over them in the darkness.</p>
<p>“That’s the mountain?” he asked.</p>
<p>Layton patted on his coat to check; yes, he still had it. He pulled his lantern out of his pocket and shined its light on the worn steps that led up the slope.</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s the one,” he confirmed, and he held his hat in place as he looked up at the mountain. “The Pictish Shrine should be right up there.”</p>
<p>“But how do we get up there?” asked Trucy. “We can’t climb! That’s not just a mountain, that’s a cliff! And I haven’t even <em>begun</em> to try flying yet!”</p>
<p>“I wonder…” Luke said pensively.</p>
<p>He looked around at the mountains before his eyes fell upon a nearby tree, stark and dead in the winter cold. The moment he saw it, he ran over to it.</p>
<p>“Sir Edgar?” he called softly. “Are you here?”</p>
<p>He pressed himself up on his toes to look closer at the tree’s branches, and Layton turned his lantern’s light to help him find what he wanted.</p>
<p>A dappled stump of brown and grey that sat on one of the uppermost branches.</p>
<p>“Sir Edgar!” Luke called again.</p>
<p>The owl turned its head right around to stare down at him like it had seen a ghost. It hopped from its perch and swooped down to one of the lower branches.</p>
<p>And the moment it was close enough to Luke, it started hooting and twittering more angrily than Layton had ever seen a bird in his entire life.</p>
<p>“Yes, I know,” Luke said the moment he got a chance, “and I’m very sorry. If you do one more favour for us, I promise you’ll never have to speak to us again.”</p>
<p>While Sir Edgar hooted in response, Layton cast a look back at Phoenix, who was staring up at the mountain more frantically than ever. He flexed and unflexed his knees, either to keep them from locking up or to stave off the chill. Trucy just huddled into her cloak and watched the aviary conversation.</p>
<p>“We need to get to the top of this mountain,” Luke told the owl. “I know that apparently a person goes up there every night and there’s no way they climb up that cliff every single time. Do you know if there’s a safe way up?”</p>
<p>Sir Edgar cooed again.</p>
<p>“Can you please show us?” Luke asked.</p>
<p>“Dammit,” Phoenix hissed, “he’s still going!”</p>
<p>“Would you mind telling me what this tune is that you know so well?” Layton asked him.</p>
<p>Even in this pitch darkness, he could tell that Phoenix’s cheeks had flushed a brilliant cherry red as he nervously scratched the back of his head under his hat.</p>
<p>“It’s complicated,” he replied.</p>
<p>“Okay,” said Luke. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Layton felt a rush of air on his cheek as Sir Edgar swooped past him.</p>
<p>“Guys, follow the owl!” Luke ordered.</p>
<p>The Professor obediently shined his light up on the dark shape that circled overhead until they moved further up the slope. The stairs underfoot had been smoothed by use and were slick under the snow, so much as Phoenix obviously wanted to run like he’d win a medal for it, they were forced to move slowly and carefully so as not to slip and break their kneecaps.</p>
<p>As they moved, the slope grew steeper. The steps grew taller and more tiring to climb and the plant growth surrounding them became thicker. Layton cast a brief look back over his shoulder and saw that they were already level with the King’s Arms’ roof. He could see right into the windows on the upper floor, not that he wanted to.</p>
<p>And as the slope steepened and steps became harder to find, the mountain grew taller and more terrifying over their heads.</p>
<p>The Professor’s lantern moved up the rock face and he found that it bore a coating of ivy somehow thicker than that on the inn’s façade, yet Sir Edgar had paused and settled in the snow right against this vine-coated stone.</p>
<p>“Huh?” Luke trotted up the rest of the steps. “But that’s just a wall!”</p>
<p>Layton moved closer with his lantern.</p>
<p>Those shadows seemed far too dark for the leaves to just be resting on a rock face.</p>
<p>“No it isn’t,” he said.</p>
<p>He reached forward until his arm was inside the opening and brushed the ivy aside with his arm to reveal the cave entrance it had hidden. His lantern was only barely enough to cut through the shadows, but he could see that the steps continued into the darkness.</p>
<p>“Oh crap,” muttered Phoenix when he saw the narrow passage. “Looks pretty dark in there. Trucy, don’t let go of my hand, okay?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t planning on it!” Trucy replied.</p>
<p>“You should still be careful,” Layton told them. “I wouldn’t want to take a tumble on steps like these.”</p>
<p>At least these steps being sheltered meant that they weren’t covered in snow and ice.</p>
<p>As they climbed, the archaeologist part of Layton’s mind screamed into his ear. He looked around as much as he dared and ran his bare fingers along the stone wall as they ascended, feeling the various dips and ridges and crumbling soil that clung to the stone.</p>
<p>“This passage was carved by hand,” he muttered for any who may have been interested. “The stone’s been eroded and smoothened over time, so it’s a little hard to tell, but if I were to hazard a guess…”</p>
<p>He looked down at the steps underfoot. Their edges were rounded and blunt and every step bore a visible dip in its centre from years of various people climbing up.</p>
<p>“…it’s not Bronze Age,” he continued. “Younger than that. Perhaps around a thousand years old? No, this rock feels... maybe eight hundred?”</p>
<p>“Jeez, Professor, do you <em>ever</em> turn your brain off?” asked Phoenix. “Wait until we’re out of here and then you can get all the analysis you want!”</p>
<p>“One should never allow one’s mind to decay, Mr Wright,” Layton pointed out. “Why do you suppose I adore puzzles so much?”</p>
<p>“I don’t care!” snapped Phoenix. “Let’s just get up to this shrine already!”</p>
<p>As if on cue, the steps came to an end and the passage widened into another, far broader cave mouth supported by cylindrical pillars. </p>
<p>And there, silhouetted against the glowing clouds of the night sky, stood a person playing a violin.</p>
<p>Layton’s breath caught in his throat. He almost didn’t want to aim his lantern in this person’s direction for fear of discovering who it might be. His feet were frozen to the floor as he felt his friends moving up by his side, and he caught himself halfway to reaching out for Phoenix as he stepped closer to the mystery violinist.</p>
<p>His shuffling feet kicked against a stone that skittered across the ground.</p>
<p>The violinist froze.</p>
<p>Their lowering of their instrument was achingly slow.</p>
<p>They turned around, arms hanging limp, and as they stepped closer to the group and away from the cave’s mouth, their steps were hesitant. Almost painful.</p>
<p>The Professor took a deep breath and angled his lantern to illuminate the Minstrel’s face.</p>
<p>His haggard, sharp, grey-hair-framed face.</p>
<p>He froze, his dark, bloodshot eyes unfocused as though he was drunk, and a wayward breeze blew through the cave and fluttered his ragged cravat.</p>
<p>“…is it morning already?” he mumbled weakly. “I hadn’t noticed…”</p>
<p>His head fell limp and his legs buckled under his weight, and Phoenix let out a piercing scream:</p>
<p>“<em>EDGEWORTH!</em>”</p>
<p>He ran forward and caught the man before he collapsed completely.</p>
<p>“Uncle Miles!” cried Trucy as she ran to her father’s side.</p>
<p>“Professor,” Luke whispered to Layton as the pair desperately shouted and shook the unconscious violinist by the shoulders. “That’s…”</p>
<p>“Indeed, Luke,” Layton mumbled in reply. “It would appear we’ve finally found our missing man.”</p>
<p>He kept his light focused on the Minstrel’s face as they moved closer.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth!” shouted Phoenix. “Edgeworth, can you hear me?!”</p>
<p>He seized the man by the head, but Edgeworth’s eyes remained closed as though he was asleep.</p>
<p>“Say something!” Phoenix yelled. “Look at me, dammit!”</p>
<p>“Uncle Miles, open your eyes!” Trucy cried.</p>
<p>But no matter what they said or did, Edgeworth was utterly unresponsive.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, give him some air.” Layton put one hand on Phoenix’s shoulder to hold him still. “Let me take a look at him.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” Phoenix’s eyes were wild with terror as he turned to look up.</p>
<p>“I’m no doctor, but I am an Englishman,” said Layton. “I know a thing or two about coldness. Please allow me to help.”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay!” Phoenix jumped away from his friend and moved to one side, and as he kneeled down, the Professor heard a faint sigh of “…wow.”</p>
<p>A glance to one side informed him that Phoenix had just found the violin that Edgeworth had dropped.</p>
<p>No matter. That wasn’t important.</p>
<p>Layton pressed the back of his fingers against the thin man’s forehead. His skin was as cold as the stone that surrounded them.</p>
<p>“No fever,” he reported.</p>
<p>“Isn’t that good?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“He’s cold to the touch,” said Layton. “A fever may be preferable. He appears to be in danger of hypothermia.”</p>
<p>He passed his lantern to Luke, who held it steady to light up the scene, and tugged Edgeworth’s hand into view.</p>
<p>“He’s not wearing any gloves!” Trucy pointed out.</p>
<p>“I guess it makes playing a violin more difficult,” Luke suggested.</p>
<p>The sound of movement nearby made Layton glance to his side. Phoenix appeared to have found the violin’s case and was in the process of loosening the bow’s strings.</p>
<p>Interesting…</p>
<p>But again, unimportant. There were far more vital things to focus on right now.</p>
<p>He pressed his two forefingers to Edgeworth’s wrist. The beat he felt was uneven and faint.</p>
<p>“His pulse feels erratic,” he told his companions. “Rather weak.”</p>
<p>He held the limp hand up into the light.</p>
<p>“And look at his fingers,” he said, pointing at the inflamed digits. “I don’t think fingers are supposed to be that red.”</p>
<p>Neither, now that he had noticed, was a wrist…</p>
<p>He lowered Edgeworth’s hand again and eased a dirty burgundy sleeve up towards his elbow, exposing raw, reddened skin pockmarked with small fleshy welts.</p>
<p>“Oh my god!” gasped Luke.</p>
<p>“What is that?” asked Trucy. “I’ve never seen a rash like that before!”</p>
<p>“It isn’t a rash,” Layton explained. “These are chilblains. They’re itchy lumps that form in the skin when exposed to extreme cold. It looks like he’s been scratching them quite a lot.”</p>
<p>He heard Trucy press her hands to her mouth in horror as he pulled the sleeve back into place.</p>
<p>“That looks <em>agonising</em>,” Luke whispered in shock.</p>
<p>“It most likely is,” said the Professor. “I can’t imagine how long he’s been doing this, but-”</p>
<p>A sudden snap noise made him jump.</p>
<p>“But we have to get him out,” Phoenix said firmly as he stood up with the closed violin case in one hand. “I’m not letting him stay on this mountain for one more goddamn second.”</p>
<p>“How are we going to do that?” asked Luke, pointing at the nearby cave mouth. “Our cottage is out on the other side of the village!”</p>
<p>“Take this.”</p>
<p>Luke stumbled as Phoenix shoved the violin case into his arms.</p>
<p>“I’ll carry him,” he said, and he unzipped his jacket.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” Layton stood up and took back his lantern. “It’s a rather steep slope down this mountain-”</p>
<p>“I don’t care!” Phoenix laid his jacket around Edgeworth’s limp shoulders. “I’m not going to let my best friend freeze to death, alright? Now help me get him up on my back before he freezes to the ground!”</p>
<p>He tied his jacket sleeves around his friend’s chest.</p>
<p>“Alright,” said Layton as Phoenix squatted on the ground.</p>
<p>He moved forward as Phoenix pulled Edgeworth’s arms over his shoulders and lifted his legs into place. Phoenix hooked his arms under the unconscious man’s knees and grunted with effort as he straightened back up to his feet. </p>
<p>“Luke, I’d like you to stop at Dr Wallace’s clinic on our way past,” Layton told his apprentice. “I think I speak for all of us when I say I’d feel better hearing a professional opinion on Mr Edgeworth’s condition.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Luke replied. “Here, let me help.”</p>
<p>He tugged off his scarf, holding the violin case under one arm, and tied it around Edgeworth’s wrists to secure him in place, and once they were all sure that the poor man wasn’t going to fall off Phoenix’s back, they made for the steps that would lead them back to the village.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Layton opened the bedroom door as slowly as he could while below him, Trucy joined him in peering around at the scene.</p>
<p>Phoenix was sitting by the front door, knees up to his chest, hands digging into his hair and loosening his hat. Luke was nearby, leaning against the front door with his arms crossed and looking into the lounge area, illuminated by golden firelight, and Layton followed his gaze to check on the situation.</p>
<p>They had done their best to make Edgeworth comfortable on one of the sofas. He lay across the cushions, still completely unconscious in front of the flickering fireplace, with Phoenix’s jacket draped over his chest and the rest of his body covered by a spare blanket. Dr Wallace knelt beside him, fingers pressed to his wrist while he stared at his watch so intensely that he seemed like he was trying to ignite it.</p>
<p>Phoenix mumbled something into his knees, catching the nearby teen’s attention.</p>
<p>“What was that?” Luke asked.</p>
<p>Looking up, Phoenix straightened his hat and turned to the lounge area.</p>
<p>“He’s been here all this time,” he repeated. “Right here in this village. This <em>entire time</em>.”</p>
<p>“We couldn’t have known, Mr Wright,” said Luke.</p>
<p>“But I <em>should</em> have known!” Phoenix whispered hoarsely. “He’s my best friend! He could’ve died up there!”</p>
<p>“But he didn’t!” Luke pointed out. “Mr Wright, he’s going to be okay!”</p>
<p>“You don’t know that!” Phoenix snapped.</p>
<p>Before the conversation could go any further, Dr Wallace straightened up. Layton ducked back behind the door and tugged Trucy by the collar so that neither of them were noticed.</p>
<p>“How is he?” they heard Luke ask.</p>
<p>“His condition? Bad,” Dr Wallace replied bluntly. “Could’ve easily been worse. Hypothermia, chilblains and the beginnings of frostbite in his nose and fingers. You were right to get him out of the cold. A couple hours more and he’d be dead.”</p>
<p>“But why did he pass out?” asked Phoenix. “That can’t be normal!”</p>
<p>“From what I can tell, Mr Wright,” said Dr Wallace, “he passed out because he was tired. That’s all. Let him have some rest in a warm environment, such as on a sofa in front of a fire, and he should be fine within a day or two.”</p>
<p>Phoenix sighed in deep relief, and beside Layton, Trucy fell to her knees.</p>
<p>“Thank goodness,” she and her father both said.</p>
<p>“I’m glad to see you’re well too, Mr Wright,” Dr Wallace continued. “That muscle relaxant didn’t do too much damage, did it?”</p>
<p>Layton kneeled down and hugged Trucy around her shoulders, and gave her the most reassuring smile he could manage.</p>
<p>“No,” they both heard Phoenix say. “Not too much.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Dr Wallace,” said Luke. “It’s a relief to know Mr Edgeworth is going to be okay.”</p>
<p>There was another sigh, this time from the doctor.</p>
<p>“I’ll admit it was alarming to have you running to my clinic in the middle of the evening,” he said, “but I’m glad I could put your minds at ease. I won’t ask for payment. You and yours acquitting me for malpractice was payment enough.”</p>
<p>The Professor peeked around the edge of the door just in time to see Phoenix bury his face in his hands again.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he said softly.</p>
<p>“And thanks for helping us earlier too,” added Luke. “I’m not sure we could have gone as far as we did if it wasn’t for your photos and post-mortem report. I know we lost anyway, but…”</p>
<p>He trailed off. It wasn’t hard to tell why. The poor boy didn’t know what else he could say.</p>
<p>“If it makes you feel any better,” said Dr Wallace, “I didn’t believe the Professor was guilty for a second.”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Luke was aghast. “But why didn’t you say so?!”</p>
<p>“Because I was testifying in a professional capacity and as a witness,” snapped the doctor, “so my duty was to remain impartial and unbiased.”</p>
<p>Luke’s face fell.</p>
<p>“…oh,” he said numbly.</p>
<p>Dr Wallace simply checked his watch again, ignoring the clock that sat right above the door.</p>
<p>“Well, it’s getting late,” he said, and Luke stepped away from the front door to make room. “I’d better head home and prep the clinic for tomorrow’s appointments. I swear to god, if anyone else gets killed in this village, I’m filing for reassignment.”</p>
<p>He opened the front door, but paused when he was halfway out.</p>
<p>“One more thing,” he said, leaning back into the room.</p>
<p>“Yes?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“It’s my duty as a doctor to protect my patient’s privacy,” said Dr Wallace, “and not share the details of anything that happens in their appointments.”</p>
<p>The beginnings of a wry smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.</p>
<p>“As a result,” he continued, “I won’t be telling anybody about any fugitives that said patient’s friends happen to be sheltering.”</p>
<p>Layton’s blood ran cold.</p>
<p>“What?!” gasped Luke.</p>
<p>“Goodnight,” was all Dr Wallace had to say.</p>
<p>And then he stepped out the door and slammed it behind him.</p>
<p>All Luke was able to do was numbly reach up and turn the key in the lock.</p>
<p>“…he knew you were here?” he said quietly.</p>
<p>Relieved to be alone at last, Layton opened the door and he and Trucy stepped out of the bedroom they had been hiding in.</p>
<p>“It would appear so,” the Professor responded.</p>
<p>“So Uncle Miles is going to be okay?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>Phoenix’s fingers tightened on his knees.</p>
<p>“Seems that way,” he said numbly.</p>
<p>“Oh, thank goodness!” Trucy ran across the room to the sofa where Edgeworth lay and threw herself upon him in the most grateful hug Layton had ever seen.</p>
<p>“That <em>is</em> a relief,” he agreed. “However, much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think we should speak too soon. It would be better if we waited until the morning to see that Mr Edgeworth’s condition doesn’t deteriorate during the night.”</p>
<p>He watched as Trucy slipped away from Edgeworth and watched his sleeping face. The unconscious man didn’t move a muscle, but he was clearly still breathing. Even from here, the Professor could see that a little colour had seeped back into his cheeks.</p>
<p>He looked back at Luke when he heard the boy sigh again.</p>
<p>“What time is it?” he asked.</p>
<p>Layton glanced up at the clock.</p>
<p>“Around a quarter to nine,” he said. “I hadn’t expected Dr Wallace to take so long.”</p>
<p>His apprentice ran his hand over his face.</p>
<p>“Are you tired, Luke?” Layton noticed that the boy’s eyes were ringed with purple and blue. “You did say that you hadn’t slept well last night.”</p>
<p>Luke yawned. His timing was impeccable.</p>
<p>“No, I…” He rubbed his eye on his knuckles. “I hadn’t.”</p>
<p>For the briefest of moments, Layton could have sworn that his apprentice was a sweet, innocent little boy again.</p>
<p>It was astounding how much he had grown…</p>
<p>…but that being said, he was still growing.</p>
<p>“I think you and Trucy should get some sleep,” Layton told him. “You’re still children, after all. You need your rest far more than any of us grown-ups do.”</p>
<p>“But this place only has two beds!” Trucy reminded them. “And Uncle Miles took one of the couches! Where are you guys going to sleep?”</p>
<p>Layton stroked his chin.</p>
<p>How could this best be arranged? If he were to think of it in the context of a puzzle…</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” said Phoenix.</p>
<p>“To be honest, I…” Without his coat, Luke settled for rubbing his jumper between his fingers. “I don’t mind sharing. You saw the bed in the Professor’s room, didn’t you? They aren’t small. There should be enough room for both of us.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” asked Trucy. “That sounds like it could be a bit weird.”</p>
<p>“You’ve slept in my bed with me before, Truce,” said Phoenix. “You know Luke by now, right? He’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>A faint blush crept onto Trucy’s cheeks as she looked up at Luke.</p>
<p>“You really don’t mind?” she asked nervously.</p>
<p>“I know it’s a bit odd,” said Luke, “but we should be okay. I don’t mind. I just want to <em>sleep</em> more than anything.”</p>
<p>Layton took his hat off. It wasn’t something he usually did willingly when in polite company, but at this time of night, it tended to get a little uncomfortable, and he knew that the last thing the person who gave this hat to him wanted was his discomfort.</p>
<p>He ran a hand through his hair. With how long he wore his hat every day, there was never any point to combing it.</p>
<p>“I’m going to go and wash up,” he said, not wanting to repeat how poorly he’d slept the night before, “so I’ll say goodnight to you both now. Do sleep well, you two.”</p>
<p>Trucy yawned as well and wiped a tear out of her eye.</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Professor,” she said sleepily. “Goodnight, Daddy.”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t look up from the floor.</p>
<p>“…night, Truce,” he said.</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Professor,” said Luke.</p>
<p>The Professor gave his apprentice a smile and turned to enter the bathroom.</p>
<p>He rested his hat on the closed toilet and wetted his hands in the sink, and once he felt they were wet enough, he rubbed his face as hard as he could and wiped the dust out of his aching eyes.</p>
<p>This, at least, was enough to lend him some small semblance of wakefulness.</p>
<p>As he was switching the tap off, he caught sight of his face in the mirror.</p>
<p>The shadows surrounding his eyes were even darker than Luke’s and Phoenix’s and his eyes themselves were bloodshot and swollen. His cheeks, in spite of the fact that he hadn’t shaved since before boarding the train in London, were still smooth and hairless. It seemed like he was one of those people who just didn’t grow facial hair, no matter how they tried.</p>
<p>If he wanted to be honest, it was rather a relief. He couldn’t imagine himself with a beard. The mere notion was unthinkable.</p>
<p>He couldn’t hold himself back as a yawn forced its way out of his throat.</p>
<p>Thank goodness he didn’t have to sleep in a police cell again.</p>
<p>He dried his face on a nearby towel. He didn’t feel like brushing his teeth yet. Right now his throat was screaming at him for a hot cup of tea, and he didn’t quite feel like denying himself that indulgence.</p>
<p>He took his hat off the toilet and left the bathroom.</p>
<p>He was alone.</p>
<p>Luke and Trucy had gone to bed, he knew that much, but Phoenix was nowhere to be seen. The only sign of his presence was his vivid blue hat hung on the hooks beside the front door.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” Layton walked into the lounge area where Edgeworth slept. “Are you here?”</p>
<p>He wasn’t near either of the sofas. Nor was he in the kitchen area.</p>
<p>Trying to keep quiet, Layton ran over to his bedroom and looked inside.</p>
<p>Phoenix wasn’t in there either.</p>
<p>Wait. What?</p>
<p>Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a dark-haired figure standing outside in the small plaza.</p>
<p>Looking closer, he was wearing the same plain shirt that Phoenix had been wearing underneath his jacket.</p>
<p>It was a <em>short-sleeved </em>shirt.</p>
<p>And he wasn’t wearing his jacket or his hat.</p>
<p>Nor was he moving in the slightest. He just seemed to be staring up at the sky as the snow fluttered to the ground around him.</p>
<p>Layton rested his hat on his bed and ran to snatch up his coat, and didn’t bother buttoning it up as he opened the door. He hugged it around himself as he stepped outside and crunched through the snow to where Phoenix was standing.</p>
<p>His hair had fallen from the eye-catching spikes that Layton remembered from two years ago. It hung about his face every which way, some locks hanging down over his eyes, others lazily tucked behind his ears, still more of it tried to defy gravity but was weighed down by other wayward locks of black.</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t seem to care. Nor had he apparently noticed the cold, even though his bare arms were smothered in a thick layer of goosebumps. He stared emptily up at the sky as though willing it to send him off to sleep.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, what are you doing out here?” Layton asked him. “Aren’t you cold?”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t look in his direction at all.</p>
<p>“…yes,” he said quietly.</p>
<p>Layton tried not to show how confused he was by that response. If Phoenix hadn’t felt the cold, he would have at least understood that much.</p>
<p>“Then don’t you think you should go back inside?” he asked. “I can restock the fire if you need it.”</p>
<p>Phoenix just blinked.</p>
<p>“…no,” he replied.</p>
<p>“Why not?” asked Layton. “Mr Wright, why are you out here? Aren’t you worried that you’ll get sick?”</p>
<p>Finally he moved. He hung his head and stared down, still utterly blank, at the snow.</p>
<p>“I don’t care.”</p>
<p>A breeze blew across the square and bit at Layton’s ears, and he hugged his coat tighter around his body while Phoenix still refused to move.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, I don’t understand why you’re behaving this way,” the Professor told him. “If you wish me to be honest, it’s worrying me.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care,” Phoenix said again.</p>
<p>He looked up, eyes falling upon the bridge they had crossed earlier that evening. By now it was coated in a layer of snow at least half a foot thick.</p>
<p>“…hey, Professor?”</p>
<p>“Yes? What is it?”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s fingers twitched.</p>
<p>“These mountains go on for miles, don’t they?” he asked. “How long do you think I would last? How far into the Cairngorms do you think I would get before I couldn’t go on any further?”</p>
<p>For the second time that evening, Layton’s blood froze in his veins.</p>
<p>What this man had just suggested was abandoning his own life to be taken by the fearsome elements of Scottish winter. He wanted to leave his friends and his little girl behind so that he could wander off and die.</p>
<p>The situation had suddenly become immensely more delicate.</p>
<p>Layton cleared his throat. It was difficult to know what to say that wouldn’t prompt him to follow through with that terrible suggestion.</p>
<p>“Well, you can’t go wandering off now, can you?” he said. “You wouldn’t want your daughter to worry about you.”</p>
<p>“She’s tough,” said Phoenix. “She’d be fine.”</p>
<p>So that hadn’t worked, but it wasn’t the only option to work with.</p>
<p>“And what about Mr Edgeworth?” Layton asked. “You told me yourself that he’s your best friend. Do you not think that he’d be concerned if he came around and you weren’t there?”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s gaze drifted back down to the ground.</p>
<p>“I don’t want him to wake up.”</p>
<p>That was it.</p>
<p>The last of Professor Layton’s patience dropped away in one fell swoop. His fingers curled into fists around the fringes of his coat and he stepped in front of Phoenix to break his gaze.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, that is <em>enough</em>.”</p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>Before Phoenix had a chance to demand an explanation, Layton seized him by the arms.</p>
<p>“Wh-”</p>
<p>“I’ve had it, Mr Wright. I’ve had it with your evasive attitude and your constant refusal to tell me what’s the matter with you.”</p>
<p>Layton drove home his anger by shaking Phoenix’s arms, <em>finally</em> eliciting a reaction from his blank expression as his eyes widened in alarm.</p>
<p>“I want you to <em>speak</em> to me, Mr Wright!” he exclaimed. “I want you to tell me what’s caused you to become this nihilistic wreck of a person who behaves as though he’s never known joy in his life! I want you to tell me why you’re suddenly willing to abandon your best friend and your own daughter! And I want you to tell me where on earth that daughter came from in the first place!”</p>
<p>Phoenix blinked down at the Professor in alarm.</p>
<p>And then he sighed, closing his eyes against the snow, shoulders slumping in his friend’s hands.</p>
<p>It seemed, at long last, that he had finally given up.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was, uh…” Phoenix sighed. “…jeez, nearly two years ago now. It was a few months after the Labyrinthia thing, I know that much, and a couple of months after another trial that was…”</p>
<p>At the sound of silence save for the crackling fire, the Professor looked around from his teapot to check that his friend was alright.</p>
<p>He was. He’d just taken a moment to frown in thought.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s not what matters right now,” he said dismissively as Layton covered the pot with a cosy and set it on the tray. “The situation was one I’d kind of expected: I took the case last minute, had no time to talk to my client who seemed like the only person who could possibly have done it…” Layton turned around just in time to see him shrug. “You know. The usual stuff. On top of that, the charge was murder, so yeah. I was right in the middle of my comfort zone.”</p>
<p>He shuffled on the sofa to make room for Layton, who set his tray down on a nearby footstool as he took his seat.</p>
<p>“Now herein lies the rub,” Phoenix continued as the Professor poured them each a cup. “I hadn’t had any time to talk to my client, it’s true, but I did have a chance to meet his daughter. She walked up to me and gave me a piece of paper. Looked like the last page of someone’s diary, torn out for whatever reason, and I didn’t really think anything of it at the time.”</p>
<p>He accepted the brimming teacup and took a very ungentlemanly swig, downing a third of the cup’s contents in a single mouthful. Layton tried not to let on how alarmed he was as he sipped from his own cup.</p>
<p>“I was there in the courtroom,” he went on, “and things were going how they usually did, complete with a stuck-up prosecutor who seemed more interested in verbally abusing me than winning the case…”</p>
<p>His fingers fidgeted on his cup’s handle.</p>
<p>“When lo and behold,” he said, “the topic of the victim’s journal comes up, and wouldn’t you know it? The last page is missing.”</p>
<p>Ah.</p>
<p>Hardly the most difficult puzzle the Professor had ever been faced with.</p>
<p>“I don’t think I need to be a master detective to see where this is going,” he remarked.</p>
<p>“No, you don’t,” said Phoenix. “That’s the same conclusion I’d come to. The prosecution claimed that the victim had been writing in his journal and hadn’t written further than the quote-unquote final page on account of his death. I did exactly what I thought was the right thing and showed everyone that final page I’d been provided with to show that no, he <em>did</em> write more after my client had seen him, so therefore said client was <em>not</em> the man responsible for his death.”</p>
<p>He took another large mouthful from his cup. Layton, who made sure only to sip his tea, had never seen anybody consume it so quickly. Did Phoenix just not have any sensation in his throat?</p>
<p>Or perhaps this tea was serving as a substitution for something more potent…</p>
<p>“What happened?” Layton asked.</p>
<p>Phoenix stared down at his reflection in what little remained of his tea.</p>
<p>“It was my own fault,” he said numbly. “I should’ve known. It was too convenient. Too easy. Too goddamn <em>perfect</em>. But I didn’t know and I showed the entire court that final page.”</p>
<p>He finished off his tea in one last mouthful and slammed the cup down in its saucer.</p>
<p>“The prosecutor then told me he’d received a tip about forged evidence the defence was going to present.”</p>
<p>“Oh <em>no</em>,” Layton sighed.</p>
<p>“He even called the forger who’d made it as a witness,” Phoenix went on, returning his cup and saucer to the nearby tray. “Confirmed that yes, he’d created that page. It wasn’t written by the victim.”</p>
<p>He slumped back on the sofa and stared at the empty ceiling.</p>
<p>“The next day,” he said, “it was decided that I would receive the harshest punishment possible for knowingly presenting forged evidence, and by a vote of 5 to 1, I was stripped of my badge.”</p>
<p>His hand wandered up to his chest and closed around his shirt as though feeling for a lapel that wasn’t there.</p>
<p>“Unless I retake the bar exam,” he said softly, “and I seriously doubt they’d allow me to, I’ll never be able to legitimately practise law for the rest of my life.”</p>
<p>“My word, that’s terrible!” the Professor gasped.</p>
<p>“And as if the fact that it’s a job I’ve been gunning for my entire life wasn’t bad enough,” said Phoenix, “meaning it’s pretty much the only thing I’m any good at, it gets worse. I know that’s hard to believe, but it gets so, so much worse.”</p>
<p>He leaned forward again, looking Layton right in the face for what had to be the first time in days.</p>
<p>“Tell me, Professor,” he said. “What would happen if it turned out one of the things you’d discovered was fake and you’d been passing it off as the real deal?”</p>
<p>Layton quickly swallowed his mouthful of tea. He rubbed his finger on the rim of his cup, trying to process the nigh-unthinkable notion.</p>
<p>It didn’t take long for images of scandalous headlines and interrogation rooms to start passing through his mind. Things that, no doubt, Phoenix was all too familiar with by this point.</p>
<p>“I imagine there would be a rather large-scale investigation into all of my previous discoveries,” the Professor concluded. “After all, if I had been caught passing one forgery off as genuine, who’s to say I hadn’t done it before? Every one of my prior discoveries would be called into question.”</p>
<p>“Exactly,” said Phoenix, and he slumped and leaned his elbows on his lap. “They’re still looking into all the wins I had before. Questioning witnesses, examining culprits, conducting new autopsies on the victims who haven’t been cremated…”</p>
<p>He rested his head in his hand.</p>
<p>“Did you know my friend Larry’s been questioned five times since then?” he asked. “And I don’t even want to start on all the things <em>he’s</em> had to clear up.”</p>
<p>He gestured at the second sofa. At the man who still lay asleep on the cushions.</p>
<p>“Ah, of course,” Layton realised. “He’s a prosecutor, after all. I should have known you would have faced him in the courtroom.”</p>
<p>He sipped his tea again. Perhaps Phoenix had the right idea; it was best to drink it before it got too cold, after all.</p>
<p>“The one thing that bothered me more than anything else was that nobody seemed to care why this forgery had happened,” Phoenix explained. “I mean, I can’t blame them since they all think I’m the one who did it, but I know I didn’t and there were two things I wanted to know.” He held up his fingers to count on. “I wanted to know <em>who</em> and I wanted to know <em>why</em>. Who had set me up and what was their motive? All I’ve ever done is try to help people and catch criminals, so why would someone frame me for evidence forgery?”</p>
<p>He took a deep breath, clearly trying to rein in his temper. The anger radiated away from his body like the heat of the nearby fire.</p>
<p>“I wanted to know who did this to me,” he said, his hands curling into fists, “so I started my own investigation. I was determined. Nothing could stop me from cutting through all the <em>bullshit</em> that’d been built up around me and finding the <em>truth</em>.” He started gesturing wildly with his hands. “And I could feel it! I could tell I was getting somewhere! I had a lead and I was chasing it and I knew it was going to give me all the answers I needed to clear my name and get my LIFE back!”</p>
<p>He stared at Layton as though waiting for a reaction.</p>
<p>However, before the Professor could decide what to say, Phoenix slumped again and hung his head.</p>
<p>“So what happened?” Layton asked, although he had a grim feeling that he already knew the answer.</p>
<p>Phoenix rubbed his eyes on the heels of his palms.</p>
<p>“I hit a dead end,” he replied, lowering his hands with a slap. “Followed that lead all the way and turned up <em>nothing</em>. And that was six months ago. I haven’t made any progress since.”</p>
<p>Yes, that sounded about right.</p>
<p>“I see,” Layton said as gently as he could.</p>
<p>He finished off his tea with one last mouthful and set the cup and saucer down on the tray beside Phoenix’s.</p>
<p>“Might I ask what became of the client you had been defending?” he asked. “I can only assume he was assigned a new attorney.”</p>
<p>Phoenix blew out a mirthless snigger.</p>
<p>“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” he laughed coldly. “But instead he decided to pull a disappearing act!”</p>
<p>“He ran away from his trial?”</p>
<p>“No, I mean he <em>literally</em> pulled a disappearing act. Vanished in full view of the entire courtroom. Nobody knows where he escaped to. He recruited his own goddamn <em>daughter</em> to help him escape and then abandoned her in the courthouse. Nobody’s seen anything of the bastard in years!”</p>
<p>He buried his face in his hands again. Layton could swear he could see the frustration piling up ever heavier on his mind.</p>
<p>A literal disappearing act… <em>that</em> sounded familiar.</p>
<p>“Was he, by any chance, a stage magician?” he decided to ask.</p>
<p>“Yup,” Phoenix said bluntly.</p>
<p>A glance over the back of the sofa showed that both bedroom doors were still securely closed.</p>
<p>“And that daughter of his,” said Layton. “Her name is Trucy, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>Phoenix responded with a grim nod.</p>
<p>“You sure haven’t lost your touch, Professor,” he said, and he rubbed his face with another exhausted sigh. “It’s not like I didn’t try to find her a family, alright? I searched all over the place, called all kinds of people, looked through phone books, even bribed my way into a public records office to check a census. Didn’t help that the bastard used two names, but I couldn’t find any living relatives of Trucy Enigmar <em>or</em> Trucy Gramarye, so I left it up to her and she decided she wanted to be Trucy Wright.”</p>
<p>The smile he gave Layton didn’t last for very long.</p>
<p>“That explains a great deal,” the Professor responded. “I had wondered for a while why you hadn’t mentioned her at all during your time in Labyrinthia. I need wonder no longer. You didn’t even know she existed at that time, did you?”</p>
<p>Phoenix just shook his head.</p>
<p>It was clear the poor man was tired beyond belief, but Layton wasn’t satisfied. He needed an explanation for what had happened outside. He needed <em>answers</em>.</p>
<p>“The two of you seem very close to one-another,” he pointed out. “I would never have suspected any lack of biological relation.”</p>
<p>His friend didn’t reply.</p>
<p>It seemed a more direct method of questioning was required.</p>
<p>“That being said,” Layton went on, “would you mind explaining what you told me while you were out in the snow? I can tell you cherish her, Mr Wright, and she cherishes you right back. Why would you consider allowing her to be abandoned again?”</p>
<p>Phoenix hung his head and pressed his fingers into his hair, somehow messing it up even more than it already had been.</p>
<p>“It’s simple,” he said, almost too quietly to hear. “I’m a terrible person.”</p>
<p>When he looked up, it was with a faint smile as though he expected the Professor to agree.</p>
<p>Layton, however, could only frown in concern and confusion.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand,” he said.</p>
<p>“Is it really that hard to?” Phoenix suddenly snapped and pointed at the bedroom door. “That girl is ten years old and I put serious thought into leaving her alone in a country where she barely even knows the currency. I got a job to support her and I’m terrible at it! She’s a <em>child</em> and she’s the main breadwinner of our household! My best friend is lying unconscious <em>right there</em> and I don’t want him to wake up if it means seeing me, like…” He gestured at his face. “Like <em>this!</em> What kind of person does that make me?”</p>
<p>“Mr Wri-”</p>
<p>“Do you want to know why I drink grape juice?!” Phoenix yelled before Layton could get a word in edgewise. “It’s because I know if I try the stronger stuff, I won’t be able to stop, and then I’ll end up even worse than I already am. I don’t want that to happen. I’m already awful enough. I can’t get worse! I can’t let Trucy be cared for by an alcoholic!”</p>
<p>He stared at Layton, wide-eyed and desperate, waiting for some kind of response.</p>
<p>When Layton couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make him worse, he turned his head away. There was no hiding it now, though. It was obvious that all this man felt right now was shame.</p>
<p>He rubbed his eyes again.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t even be saying this to you,” he said softly. “You deserve better than to worry about someone like me.”</p>
<p>He stared numbly, emptily, at the floor.</p>
<p>He really did believe it, didn’t he? Everything he’d just said. Perhaps for the first time since they’d met on that train, he was honestly voicing his thoughts and feelings. Layton didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. It hadn’t been <em>anything</em> like this.</p>
<p>Phoenix was in a bad state. One of the worst the Professor had ever seen. It was clear now that what he’d said out there in the snow wasn’t anything spur of the moment. Rather, it was something he had been considering for weeks. Maybe even <em>months</em>.</p>
<p>And Layton got the feeling that if he said the wrong thing, Phoenix would walk back out there into the snow and this time, he wouldn’t be persuaded to come back.</p>
<p>He reached out, careful not to make any sudden movements, and rested his hand on Phoenix’s arm.</p>
<p>No reaction. Nothing visible, at least.</p>
<p>“I know I haven’t known you for a great deal of time, Mr Wright,” Layton said gently, “but in the time I have known you, you’ve never given me any reason to see you as anything other than a good person. If everything you’ve told me is true, then I refuse to see you as anything else.”</p>
<p>“Stop.” Phoenix shook the Professor’s hand away. “Don’t, jus-just <em>stop</em>.”</p>
<p>“I won’t.”</p>
<p>Layton took Phoenix’s hands and pulled them close.</p>
<p>“Everything you’ve told me happened to you is terrible,” he said, “but I fail to see how it reflects on the quality of your character. You are NOT a bad person. You simply had bad things tear your life apart and you didn’t deserve any of it. Look at me, Mr Wright.”</p>
<p>After taking a deep breath, Phoenix looked up at the Professor again. His watering eyes glistened in the firelight.</p>
<p>“I saw how terrified you were for Mr Edgeworth’s wellbeing, Mr Wright,” Layton told him. “Need I remind you that <em>you</em> were the one who insisted on carrying him on your back all the way down that mountain? Not only that, but I watched you hug and comfort that little girl after she found you in that freight car. Would you care so deeply about these people if you were as awful as you make yourself out to be?”</p>
<p>“Stop,” Phoenix said weakly, his gaze tracking down again. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to make me-”</p>
<p>“Make you what?” Layton seized Phoenix’s chin and lifted his head to keep him from bowing it again. “I haven’t spoken any lies, Mr Wright.”</p>
<p>Phoenix was frozen in shock.</p>
<p>It must have been quite a while since anybody touched him like that, and the Professor withdrew his hand before he could make the man too uncomfortable.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, it would be a bad idea to step back too far.</p>
<p>“Can I call you Phoenix?” he asked.</p>
<p>Phoenix closed his eyes and responded with a slow nod.</p>
<p>“I’m telling you the truth, Phoenix,” Layton told him. “You’re still a good person. You didn’t deserve anything you’ve had to suffer through.”</p>
<p>He didn’t get a reply.</p>
<p>When Phoenix opened his eyes again, he couldn’t find it within himself to meet the Professor’s gaze, and when he blinked, tears poured down his cheeks.</p>
<p>He sniffed, wiped his face on the back of his bare hand, and took a deep, shuddering breath.</p>
<p>“I didn’t do it,” he said in a strained, agonised voice. “I didn’t forge evidence. I didn’t forge <em>anything</em>.”</p>
<p>He clasped Layton’s hands.</p>
<p>“You believe me, don’t you?” he pleaded. “I didn’t do it!”</p>
<p>“Of course I believe you, Phoenix,” Layton replied. “I know you’re better than that.”</p>
<p>He freed his hand and reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, but before he had a chance to offer it, Phoenix’s head slumped and his shoulders shook with his breath.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he choked.</p>
<p>“Don’t be,” Layton told him.</p>
<p>“I’ve been so horrible to you! I’m sorry!”</p>
<p>“It’s alright.”</p>
<p>He pulled Phoenix into his shoulder and held him close, and stroked his messy hair as he clutched the Professor’s body and cried, more helpless than he had ever been before.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Luke leaned his ear away from the door.</p>
<p>“Is all of that true?” he asked.</p>
<p>Trucy nodded.</p>
<p>She laid her back against the doorframe and hugged her knees.</p>
<p>“You two really have been through a lot, haven’t you?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>Trucy nodded again.</p>
<p>“I wish there was more I could do,” she said softly. “I told the Professor earlier. I can tell that Daddy’s sad and doesn’t want me to know. I can make him smile, but I…”</p>
<p>She pressed one hand to her eye as a painful sob wracked her body.</p>
<p>“Hey, don’t cry!” Luke whispered as loud as he dared.</p>
<p>Too late. Trucy already had tears pouring down her cheeks.</p>
<p>“There’s nothing I can do to make his sadness go away!” she cried.</p>
<p>“I know, I know,” Luke said, cringing at how terribly he was hiding his desperation. “But listen, your dad’s tough, isn’t he?”</p>
<p>Trucy sniffed hard and wiped her eyes on her hands.</p>
<p>“Mm-hm,” she responded.</p>
<p>“Then I’m sure he’ll be able to sort this all out!” Luke put on the best smile he could manage. “Just give him some time! It’s obvious he loves you, so as long as you’re with him, I’m sure he’ll be fine!”</p>
<p>It didn’t help. If anything, Trucy just cried even harder.</p>
<p>“I know I’m good at making people smile,” she wept. “It’s my job, after all. But even when he smiles, I know Daddy’s still sad! I can see it in his eyes!”</p>
<p>She hid her face in her hands and curled into as tight a ball as she could, and all Luke could think of to do was shuffle closer to her and pat her on the shoulder. If she noticed, she didn’t show it.</p>
<p>It was painful to watch. She was so young, but she’d already been forced through so many awful things. Luke couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of life he would have to live if his parents had abandoned him.</p>
<p>Parents? Plural?</p>
<p>Neither Phoenix nor Trucy had made any mention of her mother.</p>
<p>Maybe it would be a good idea not to touch on that subject. The poor girl was already upset enough as it was.</p>
<p>Even though it tore his heart to shreds to see her in such a state, Luke waited until Trucy’s crying had quietened down. She didn’t do anything to push his hand away, so maybe she was glad he was there after all.</p>
<p>He cleared his throat. If he could distract her somehow, she was sure to calm down.</p>
<p>“Listen,” he said. “I’m not sure if you remember, but I’m actually only visiting the UK right now.”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Trucy sniffed again and tried to dry her eyes on her gloves. “But you sound so English!”</p>
<p>“Don’t get me wrong!” Luke hurriedly said. “I was born and raised here, it’s true, but my parents and I moved to America a couple of years ago and listen, okay? Don’t cry.”</p>
<p>She took a deep breath and looked up at him. The sight of her teary eyes punched Luke’s heart in the gut, but he tried his best not to let it show and offered her a gentle smile.</p>
<p>“We’re living in Houston right now,” he told her, “but if Dad gets the promotion he’s gunning for, we’ll be transferring to Los Angeles. Isn’t that where you guys live?”</p>
<p>To his relief, Trucy nodded.</p>
<p>“So if you really need a friend,” Luke said, “I’ll be right there for you to talk to.”</p>
<p>He held out his hand to her.</p>
<p>“Deal?” he asked.</p>
<p>Trucy sniffed again.</p>
<p>Her trembling hand took his and shook it.</p>
<p>“Deal,” she said weakly.</p>
<p>“Good,” Luke replied happily.</p>
<p>He pressed himself against the door and stood up, helping Trucy to her feet as he went.</p>
<p>“Now let’s go to bed before they catch us and get mad.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Music of Miles Edgeworth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nobody else in the village had woken up yet.</p>
<p>Or at least, nobody was out in the streets to catch Trucy in the act.</p>
<p>The sun was just barely peeking over the top of the mountains as she ran across the snow-covered square, crunching and crackling underfoot, and she kept one hand on her hat so that it didn’t go flying off. Wind resistance could be awful when it wanted to be.</p>
<p>She didn’t stop until she had reached the King’s Arms and, after fighting her instincts to stop under the front windows rather than run up to the door, she held her hat tighter and looked up the wall to its roof.</p>
<p>For such a cold climate, this ivy looked amazingly healthy.</p>
<p>Trucy pulled her hat down until it was tight around her ears and almost over her eyes. It’d be a big problem if it fell off while she was climbing and then somebody walking past found it on the ground while she was still busy.</p>
<p>She gently took hold of the ivy and gave it an experimental tug. It was fixed fast to the wall. Seemed like it would be able to take her weight.</p>
<p>Thank goodness the drapes on the window this ivy had grown over were still drawn. If somebody opened them, she’d be the first thing they saw!</p>
<p>She grabbed a vine up higher and pulled herself up, and slipped her foot into the leaves near the ground. When she took her other foot off the ground, the ivy stayed stuck to the wall. She climbed another step up and yes, it still held strong.</p>
<p>Another step. Another pull. Another few inches up.</p>
<p>This wasn’t enough. She had to speed up. But if she did, that’d be dangerous. She’d risk pulling the ivy off. Then she’d fall and get hurt. The snow was deep – deeper than she’d ever seen snow get in all the time she’d lived with either of her dads – but it wasn’t enough to cushion her fall if the ivy tore away.</p>
<p>So she pulled herself up as quickly as she dared. One hand over the other. One foot above the previous. Not too fast. Not too slow.</p>
<p>If Dad, the Professor or Luke found out about what she was doing, they would be absolutely <em>furious</em> with her.</p>
<p>Well, maybe if she fell. If she made it back in one piece, nobody would mind too much, would they?</p>
<p>It was better to ask forgiveness than permission. That was what her previous Dad used to say.</p>
<p>She looked down over her shoulder. She was about ten feet up. When she looked back up, she still had about ten more. So halfway up? It was hard to tell when she was already climbing.</p>
<p>Just keep going. Keep climbing. She didn’t have far to go.</p>
<p>It was funny to think that if it was her Dad instead, he would probably have already puked fifteen times by this point.</p>
<p>Like he did that one time on the rollercoaster.</p>
<p>And no, she was <em>never</em> going to let him live that down.</p>
<p>Maybe she could tell Uncle Miles about it when he woke up. He <em>loved</em> all the stories about Dad embarrassing himself.</p>
<p>There it was. She’d made it. She’d reached her and Daddy’s window.</p>
<p>She pulled herself up the ivy until she was at eye level with the ledge and hooked her arm around the vines that coiled above her to the gutter that lined the roof. Once she had a hand free, she dug into her bag and pulled out her smallest set of picks.</p>
<p>It was remarkable that these windows had locks on the outside in the first place. Maybe they were for rescue workers, she considered as she stuck them into the lock. If the building was on fire and the firefighters needed to get in without breaking the window. Or maybe it was something to do with the superstitions the people in this village had? A way for the spirits to come and go as they pleased?</p>
<p>Oh boy, now was <em>not</em> the time to think about ghosts climbing in through the windows while she and Dad were sleeping.</p>
<p>Thankfully it didn’t take her long to get the window open and, once it had popped free, she pulled it wide enough for her to climb through and inched a little further up the ivy to slip her legs in. That done, she pushed herself off the ledge and into the room, and landed on the floor as gently as she could.</p>
<p>She was in.</p>
<p>And their suitcases were right there.</p>
<p>She tiptoed to her dad’s, laid by his side of the bed, and flipped it open. Everything was still there. Ms Hill apparently wasn’t interested in stealing from her customers. She’d have to tell Dad about that and reassure him when she got back to the cottage.</p>
<p>She nudged his extra pairs of jeans and underwear aside and pulled out what she’d been looking for. A dull grey hoodie with dark blue stripes running down the shoulders and sleeves. It was probably the ugliest piece of clothing her father owned, but it was cosy and soft and had been 75% off on clearance, so he’d snapped it up like Auntie Maya with her favourite burgers.</p>
<p>
  <em>*thump*</em>
</p>
<p>She froze.</p>
<p>Somebody was outside the door. Right outside. She could hear their footsteps and muffled voices in the hallway. It sounded a little like Ms Hill, but she didn’t quite recognise the person she was speaking to. Judging by how deep the voice was, it was most likely a man, but-</p>
<p>The door opened.</p>
<p>Trucy couldn’t move. Her every instinct screamed at her to jump under the bed and hide, but her feet were frozen to the floor.</p>
<p>Through the crack, she could hear the conversation more clearly.</p>
<p>“…he could have gone?”</p>
<p>“They’re outsiders, Jack. Two of them are from <em>America</em>. Do you really think they’d know how to get up there?”</p>
<p>“Henry, one of them could apparently speak owl! What if he heard where to go from one of the birds?”</p>
<p>“What do birds care about what’s inside the mountains?”</p>
<p>The first person, whom Trucy now recognised for sure as Jack Hill, sighed.</p>
<p>“You’re right,” she said, “but that still raises the question of where he could’ve gone! And he took the Silver Violin with him so we can’t even pick another Minstrel to tide us over until he comes back!”</p>
<p>Trucy’s blood turned to ice.</p>
<p>They were talking about Uncle Miles.</p>
<p>“I’m sure we can survive for one night,” said the man Jack was speaking to. “People worked in these mountains for decades before the Silver Violin was even made. We’ll be okay.”</p>
<p>Jack sighed again. Somehow Trucy almost felt bad for her.</p>
<p>“If I’m right, you’re paying for my stock of wine next week.”</p>
<p>The door closed. Whatever ‘Henry’s’ response was, Trucy didn’t get to hear it.</p>
<p>But neither did she get discovered. She blew out a long breath and wiped the sweat away from her brow. She was okay. She was <em>safe</em>.</p>
<p>She tied the hoodie’s sleeves around her waist and tiptoed back to the window, and climbed down the ivy as quickly as she dared.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The Professor slipped the tea cosy off the pot as his young apprentice set out the cups.</p>
<p>“You still prefer not to have sugar, don’t you?” he asked, keeping his voice low to avoid waking his slumbering friend.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it always seems too sweet for me when it does,” Luke replied.</p>
<p>Layton couldn’t help but laugh. </p>
<p>“A miracle,” he chuckled. “Finally something too sweet for Luke Triton!”</p>
<p>“Ha ha <em>ha</em>,” Luke responded.</p>
<p>Before Layton had a chance to apologise for his joke, they both heard the unmistakable click of the front door opening and the whistle of the gentle, no doubt chilling breeze outside.</p>
<p>He leaned backwards to look at the front door, just in time for it to close, and saw that the person responsible for its opening was a little girl in a red cloak clutching a bundle of grey fabric to her chest and pulling her hat down over her face.</p>
<p>She turned, totally silent, and tiptoed towards one of the bedroom doors.</p>
<p>“Good morning,” said Layton.</p>
<p>“EEP!” Trucy shrank into her shoulders and froze on the spot.</p>
<p>She slowly spun on her heels until she was facing the Professor and a very curious and confused Luke, smiling a very nervous smile.</p>
<p>“…hi,” she said.</p>
<p>“What were you doing out there?” Luke whispered hoarsely. “I was sure you were using the bathroom!”</p>
<p>“I, um…” Trucy tiptoed closer to the sofa her father was sleeping on. “I sneaked into my and Daddy’s room at the inn. Uncle Miles has his jacket right now, so I went to get his spare.”</p>
<p>Layton poured out a cup of tea.</p>
<p>“Ms Hill just let you in?” he asked as he did so.</p>
<p>“Uh, well…” Trucy seemed determined to look anywhere but at Luke or the Professor’s faces. “I didn’t exactly go in through the front door…”</p>
<p>“Then how on earth did you get in?!” demanded Luke.</p>
<p>Trucy set her jaw and swallowed.</p>
<p>“…um…” she said softly.</p>
<p>“Nnmph, what’s everyone yelling about?”</p>
<p>Luke’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Their efforts to be quiet had been in vain; Phoenix was sitting up, groaning and groggily rubbing his eyes, pushing off the blanket that Layton had covered him with the night prior.</p>
<p>“Oh!” Trucy said peppily. “Good morning, Daddy!”</p>
<p>“Good morning, Phoenix,” said the Professor, and he set out another cup and saucer. “The tea’s not long brewed. Would you like a cup?”</p>
<p>Phoenix squinted at him in the early morning light.</p>
<p>“…yeah…” he said softly. “Yeah, I’d love one.”</p>
<p>He gave his eyes another sleepy rub.</p>
<p>“Morning, Truce,” he croaked. “What’ve you got there?”</p>
<p>“I brought you your spare jacket!” Trucy replied, and held out the bundle of grey for him to take.</p>
<p>Phoenix blinked at her. Layton caught himself almost laughing again; the poor man was still half asleep and now his little girl was shoving something of a hideous colour right into his face.</p>
<p>“How?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure you’re still a fugitive right now.”</p>
<p>The Professor thought back to the inn. Specifically, what it looked like.</p>
<p>“The thought occurs that the King’s Arms has quite a sturdy coating of ivy on its front façade,” he recalled as he poured out the rest of the tea.</p>
<p>“And Trucy,” said Luke as he pulled out a packet of Nice biscuits, “you’re pretty good at picking locks, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s confusion at Trucy suddenly became a good deal more coherent and a good deal more annoyed.</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” he muttered. “Trucy, you <em>didn’t</em>.”</p>
<p>Trucy’s fingers fidgeted on the hoodie. Her eyes wandered all around the room, but she didn’t find the excuse or explanation she was looking for.</p>
<p>“I did,” she finally admitted. “Please don’t get mad!”</p>
<p>Her father just blinked at her again.</p>
<p>His hand was slow as he reached up and took the jacket out of her hands.</p>
<p>“How?” he asked. “I’m way too impressed to be mad.”</p>
<p>“You’re impressed?!” cried Luke.</p>
<p>“She picked a lock while hanging off vines on a wall and sneaked in and out and all the way through this village without anyone seeing her,” Phoenix pointed out, resting the jacket in his lap. “Am I <em>not</em> supposed to be impressed?”</p>
<p>Trucy spun around on the spot with a flourish of her cloak and gave her audience a proud tip of the hat.</p>
<p>“It’s a performer’s job to stand out,” she declared, “but we also have to know when to conceal ourselves in the wings!”</p>
<p>She bounced on her heels with a happy little smile, and Layton suddenly fully understood what had made Phoenix so eager to adopt her.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry!” she said happily. “Nobody even got a glimpse of me!”</p>
<p>“Well, I certainly hope not.” Layton walked over to the sofa and passed Phoenix his cup of tea. “The last thing we need is those young police officers coming to our door.”</p>
<p>Trucy gave a very deliberate and dramatic shudder of horror.</p>
<p>“And you’re not just saying that because their tea tasted like soap?” asked Luke as he took up his own cup.</p>
<p>Layton froze halfway to where his own tea sat.</p>
<p>It stared back at him, a pleasant, comforting shade of golden brown, a satisfying coil of steam flowing from its surface. It practically begged him to pick him up and drink it.</p>
<p>A far cry from the horror he had experienced two nights before.</p>
<p>“It was a crime against camellia, Luke,” he finally found it in himself to say. “You would understand had you tasted it.”</p>
<p>He made it the rest of the way to his tea and gave it the sip it deserved.</p>
<p>When he looked back at Phoenix, he saw him whispering to his daughter, and he just about managed to make out what he was saying.</p>
<p>“I see we’ve got some discourse in the tea fandom,” he muttered.</p>
<p>Trucy pressed her hand to her mouth and snorted.</p>
<p>The Professor smiled again. The bond between a parent and a child was truly a thing of beauty.</p>
<p>“Nnngh…”</p>
<p>That sound hadn’t come from Phoenix.</p>
<p>All eyes fell upon the thin man laid out on the other sofa.</p>
<p>“Is he waking up?!” gasped Luke.</p>
<p>Sure enough, Miles Edgeworth grimaced and pressed the heel of his palm to his head.</p>
<p>Phoenix tossed his blanket off his legs and kneeled beside the sofa, staring at his friend with equal parts hope and worry.</p>
<p>When Edgeworth’s eyes were pried open, they stared up at the ceiling for a brief moment before darting from side to side.</p>
<p>“Hm…?” he said weakly. “Where…”</p>
<p>His wandering eyes found the man who knelt beside him, who remained completely still, holding his breath in anticipation.</p>
<p>“Wright?” Edgeworth managed groggily. “Is that you?”</p>
<p>Phoenix took a deep breath. Seeing his friend becoming coherent hadn’t done anything to lessen his unease.</p>
<p>“Hey, Edgeworth,” he said with a small, anxious smile. “It’s a relief to see you awake. How’re you feeling?”</p>
<p>Seconds ticked past in nerve-wracking slowness as Edgeworth contemplated his location, consciousness and the sudden appearance of a man whom, Layton recalled, had claimed to be his best friend.</p>
<p>Then, with no warning at all, his eyes narrowed.</p>
<p>“Wright, when was the last time you shaved?” he demanded. “You look dreadful!”</p>
<p>All of Phoenix’s worry disappeared in a flash, replaced with the most annoyed scowl the Professor had ever seen in his life. He thrust himself to his feet and stormed towards the bathroom.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?!” Luke spluttered in shock.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, he’s fine,” was all Phoenix said before he slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>With one hand, Edgeworth held the thick grey jacket closed over his chest. With the other, he raised the teacup to his lips and took a long, indulgent sip. His sigh of relief as he lowered the cup was palpable.</p>
<p>“Finally,” he breathed. “At long last! A cup of tea that doesn’t taste like I’m rinsing my mouth with Imperial Leather!”</p>
<p>Phoenix almost burst out laughing. So Edgeworth had been forced to drink that awful tea too, had he? He filed that little snippet of information away in his mental bank of things to poke fun at him for at a later date.</p>
<p>“I believe the issue may be the low-quality Styrofoam cups they used to serve it,” Layton suggested as he sat down beside his latest guest. “The wax coating just isn’t suited to such a hot liquid.”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” said Edgeworth, staring into his own cup at his ragged reflection. “Or maybe the folks in this backwater hamlet just have no idea what makes a halfway decent cup of tea.”</p>
<p>Naturally, this remark caused the tea-loving Layton to laugh again.</p>
<p>“Given how isolated we are up here in the Cairngorms,” he said, “I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility.”</p>
<p>As usual, it was hard to tell whether Edgeworth’s smile was sarcastic or not, but there was definite gratitude in the way he was gulping down that tea. The way he behaved was almost as though he hadn’t been provided with any fluids in <em>months</em>. Like he’d been lost in a desert and had just happened upon a lush, blooming oasis.</p>
<p>Or like a man who’d been frozen half to death and had been provided with the comfort of a hot drink.</p>
<p>Not that Phoenix was going to bring that up to him. It’d only give the man more reason for his obnoxious snarking.</p>
<p>Edgeworth took another drawn-out, grateful sip of tea. The way he lowered his cup almost seemed reluctant.</p>
<p>“I’ll confess that a large part of me was holding out hope that someone would notice my disappearance,” he told the group. “That someone would be sent to my rescue. But I’ll also confess…”</p>
<p>He frowned as he looked up at not only his friend, but the little girl sitting by said friend’s side, squeezed between him and a teenage boy in blue.</p>
<p>“I didn’t expect it to be you, Wright,” he admitted. “As a matter of fact, you were the <em>last</em> person I expected to see all the way out here.”</p>
<p>Phoenix scoffed.</p>
<p>“You can thank <em>this</em> one for that,” he said, jabbing his thumb to his right.</p>
<p>Edgeworth smiled as well. The sight had never been so reassuring. He was okay, Phoenix told himself. He was going to be <em>fine</em>.</p>
<p>“Torturing your father again, are we?” Edgeworth asked.</p>
<p>“Hey, he deserves it for being such a stick-in-the-mud!” cried Trucy.</p>
<p>Her tortured father nudged her in the arm and she giggled and pushed him back, and he fought the urge to wrap her in a headlock and noogie her into oblivion.</p>
<p>“I would say that I trust you’ve been well, Wright,” said Edgeworth, “but given your appearance, ‘well’ is likely the last descriptor I would ever consider using for you.”</p>
<p>Phoenix ran his hand over his stubbly chin. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had shaved, yet it never seemed to grow far beyond scratchy. He almost envied Edgeworth and Layton, who didn’t seem to have any need for razors at all.</p>
<p>He shrugged.</p>
<p>“Can’t fault you there,” he replied.</p>
<p>He glanced at Layton, seated beside Edgeworth, who tipped his hat and gave Phoenix a gentle smile.</p>
<p>Phoenix’s mind flew back to the kindness he’d shown him last night. How he’d sat with him and listened, heard his story, and hadn’t turned on him the way Phoenix had been expecting him to but had instead comforted him, assured him that he was still a good person…</p>
<p>“I think I’m doing a bit better than I was,” he added. “Definitely way better now that you’re awake. You had me scared out of my wits, you know that?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth responded with a smile that seemed to say ‘of course you were’ and finished off his tea with one last mouthful.</p>
<p>“I feel as though I’ve been sleeping for a decade,” he said, “but I get the sense that it may have only been a single night. Around ten hours, give or take a minute.”</p>
<p>Unbelievable. Phoenix rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“Once again, you pull the right answer out of thin air,” he said. “How the heck do you keep doing that?”</p>
<p>“It’s called basic logic, Wright,” Edgeworth said flatly. “The last thing I remember is scaling the mountain to play that accursed violin again, and said violin is sitting on that table over there, out in the open.” He nodded towards the nearby dining table. “Had it been more than a day, I’m sure the thought would have occurred to you to hide it somewhere, given its significance to this village.”</p>
<p>He gave Phoenix a look that somehow managed to look both angry and matter-of-fact.</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t leave it out for the whole world to see,” he pointed out.</p>
<p>Dammit, why did this nerd have to be right <em>all</em> the time?</p>
<p>Phoenix slumped back on the sofa with a groan.</p>
<p>“You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes, you know that?” he asked.</p>
<p>Edgeworth scoffed again.</p>
<p>“I shall take that as a compliment,” he said happily.</p>
<p>He seemed to have recovered from his ordeal rather effortlessly. He leaned forward and rested his teacup on the tray that sat on the footstool between the couches.</p>
<p>“And Mr… Layton, was it?” He looked up at the English gentleman. “Your young friend’s name is Luke?”</p>
<p>“That’s correct, Mr Edgeworth,” Layton replied with a tip of his hat. “We’re all quite relieved to see you awake and alert.”</p>
<p>“If you want to know why <em>we’re</em> up here,” said Luke, “you can blame Yatagarasu.”</p>
<p>Something about the last word caused Edgeworth to stare at Luke in horror.</p>
<p>“And what do THEY have to do with this?!” he demanded as Layton got up from the couch.</p>
<p>“So you <em>do</em> know this person?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“They sent me a letter a little over a week ago,” said Layton, returning with the overstuffed envelope in one hand. “I had hoped that you could explain a little more about this person when we finally managed to find you.”</p>
<p>He tugged one of the papers out of the envelope and passed it to Edgeworth, who unfolded it to give it a read.</p>
<p>His eyes flew over the writing far too fast for him to properly take in the information. He was just skimming it. Probably just wanted to confirm to himself that this was the person he apparently knew.</p>
<p>As he reached the end of the page, a fond smile crept onto his face. Almost fatherly, Phoenix thought.</p>
<p>“Friend of yours?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Something like that,” said Edgeworth, and he folded the letter into his lap. “Now I’m especially glad to have been found. I wouldn’t want her to do something terrible or reckless… again…”</p>
<p>He suddenly hissed through his teeth and clutched his head, eyebrows scrunched in pain.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong?” Phoenix struggled to hide his reflexive flood of panic.</p>
<p>“Agh, headache…” Edgeworth groaned. “I’m either tired or dehydrated. That’s what these blasted things usually mean.”</p>
<p>“Well, we’d better get you a fresh cup of tea then, hadn’t we?” Layton got to his feet and took up the tray.</p>
<p>“Yes, you had, thank you…” Edgeworth pressed his fingertips to his temples. “…although I wouldn’t refuse some coffee if you were to offer it…”</p>
<p>Was that fresh tea that Phoenix smelled? Or was it a golden opportunity?</p>
<p>“How much coffee are we talking?” he asked.</p>
<p>He silently pleaded harder than he had pleaded in weeks. No, in months. Please, Edgeworth. <em>Please</em> take the bait.</p>
<p>Edgeworth blinked at him from under his brow.</p>
<p>“I’d say about…” He grunted in pain as he rubbed his head. “…seventeen cups.”</p>
<p>Phoenix slapped his hand to his mouth, but it didn’t do much to stifle his gigantic snort of laughter. Trucy giggled beside him, equally as delighted that Edgeworth had taken the bait. Edgeworth, for his part, just smiled at their shared joke.</p>
<p>A prickle on the back of his neck told Phoenix he was being stared at, and he quickly discovered that staring was coming from a very confused and very concerned Luke.</p>
<p>“You guys have a history the rest of us can only imagine,” he said flatly.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Better?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>Edgeworth lowered the cup. It was pretty damn impressive how quickly he had drained it.</p>
<p>“Significantly so,” he sighed. “Who would have thought that playing a violin on a mountaintop all night every night could be so exhausting?”</p>
<p>Phoenix could have punched the man, he was so relieved. <em>That</em> was the drama and sarcasm he’d come to know so well.</p>
<p>“So is that what you’ve been doing, Mr Edgeworth?” asked Luke. “How long have you been acting as the Minstrel?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth pulled the hoodie tighter around his body.</p>
<p>“I honestly have no idea,” he said, staring emptily at the tea tray. “Since I came to this godforsaken village, I’ve barely been allowed to sleep and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of any calendar.”</p>
<p>He looked up at a space somewhere over Trucy’s head.</p>
<p>“When you spend most of your waking moments in near-total darkness,” he said, “it becomes rather difficult to keep track of time.”</p>
<p>“One moment.” Layton snatched up the envelope again and dug into it. “Your friend the Great Thief provided us with details concerning your disappearance…”</p>
<p>He pulled out the by now very dangerously crumpled dossier and scanned down its contents.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” he said. “They claim your last contact with the outside world was a little over a month ago.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth stared at Layton. His jaw had fallen slack, dark eyes wide in shock.</p>
<p>“It’s only been one month?” he asked.</p>
<p>The Professor simply nodded in response.</p>
<p>“How long did you think it was?” asked Trucy, her fingers tight on the edge of the couch cushions.</p>
<p>“I…” Edgeworth pressed his hand to his head again. “I can’t be sure. Like I said, keeping track of time was a struggle. Until now, I had led myself to believe it had been almost half a year, but judging by what you’ve told me and by young Trucy’s appearance, that can’t possibly be the case.”</p>
<p>“Jeez, you got <em>that</em> wiped out?” Phoenix didn’t know whether to be furious or horrified. “That sounds like torture!”</p>
<p>“It was,” Edgeworth sighed. “I can’t thank you all enough for pulling me down from that accursed mountain. If that was only my…”</p>
<p>He pinched his brow. Maybe he hadn’t shaken off that weariness after all.</p>
<p>“If I’d only been doing that for a month,” he said, “and I was already on the verge of collapse, I don’t know how much longer I could have survived.”</p>
<p>He reached for his sleeve, but apparently thought better of it and pulled his hand away. Phoenix caught the briefest glimpse of the reddened skin underneath and gritted his teeth to keep himself from speaking. To draw attention to those chilblains would probably be a bad idea for everyone involved.</p>
<p>“This tradition or whatever they’ve decided to call it is insane,” Luke spat in disgust. “Can’t they see how dangerous it is? You shouldn’t have been outside in that weather for more than two hours, let alone an entire night!” He gestured wildly in Edgeworth’s direction. “And on top of a sheer cliff like that? You could’ve easily fallen to your death!”</p>
<p>“We had you examined by the village’s new doctor, Mr Edgeworth,” Layton told him. “He says that with enough rest in a warm environment, you should make a full recovery. You’re quite lucky to be alive, and we are very relieved that you are.”</p>
<p>He gave a knowing look to the room’s other couch.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright and young Trucy especially were extremely concerned for your safety,” he added.</p>
<p>Trucy leaped off the couch and threw herself onto Edgeworth in a massive hug, and Edgeworth, to Phoenix’s surprise, seemed more than happy to return it. He hugged his honorary niece tight and looked like he’d need a crowbar to pry the two apart. For a moment, Phoenix considered asking for a hug himself.</p>
<p>He didn’t. It’d only fuel Edgeworth’s mocking fire, after all.</p>
<p>Edgeworth slowly, apparently reluctantly, released Trucy from his grip and patted her on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“No doubt you’re all wondering what I’m doing all the way up here in the first place,” he said.</p>
<p>“Yes, I had been curious about that,” Layton responded. “I find it unlikely that you came here with the intent of suicide by hypothermia.”</p>
<p>“I’m going out on a limb and guessing it’s to do with your job,” Phoenix suggested.</p>
<p>Edgeworth gave him a nod.</p>
<p>“As usual, you somehow manage to be correct,” he said, and for some reason, he started frowning. “I don’t know how you do it, Wright. I’ve never known you to be one for logic. The least you could do is share the secrets of your miraculous psychic powers with the rest of us Muggles.”</p>
<p>Phoenix snorted again. It felt nice, <em>very</em> nice, to have a leg up on Edgeworth rather than it being the other way around for once.</p>
<p>“Asking the defence attorney to give away his tricks of the trade?” he scoffed. “Nice try, but I don’t think so. A magician never reveals his secrets.”</p>
<p>Trucy held up her hand and they shared a high-five. Layton gave them an appreciative smile, but Edgeworth just rolled his eyes again.</p>
<p>“Very well,” he sighed, crossing his arms. “I’ve been in Europe for the past year and a half or so and in Britain for…” He tapped his finger on his arm. “You said I’ve been missing for a month?”</p>
<p>Luke and Trucy both nodded.</p>
<p>“In which case,” said Edgeworth, “I’ve been in Britain for three months. In my journey to improve myself as a prosecutor, my time here has been spent conducting research on how law is practised around the world.”</p>
<p>Phoenix held himself back. Since when did Edgeworth, of all people, start cracking jokes?</p>
<p>“Don’t know what you came here for,” he said. “It’s pretty much how it is back home, complete with the defence being public enemy number one.”</p>
<p>“But I had no way of knowing that,” Edgeworth pointed out. “I was curious about how law is practised in the more isolated regions of the United Kingdom; ergo, I found the most secluded village I could and drove my way there with intent to learn.”</p>
<p>“But something went wrong, didn’t it?” asked Layton.</p>
<p>As Edgeworth numbly nodded, Luke jumped up from the couch and ran to his satchel, hanging beside the door.</p>
<p>“I found this note tucked into one of the books in the village’s library!” he spluttered, and he ran back with a crumpled square of paper that he handed to Edgeworth. “Mr Edgeworth, was this you? Is this your handwriting?”</p>
<p>Once he had recovered from the shock of having paper thrust into his face, Edgeworth took the paper and read over the writing.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” he said, and passed it back to Luke. “This was me. I had been trying to keep track of what I was learning about this place, but I kept being ushered back to my room upon being discovered. The most I could do was hide that note and hope somebody would learn from it.”</p>
<p>“We did,” Luke replied, and he sat back down. “Thank you for your help, Mr Edgeworth.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth gave him one of the rarest things that Edgeworth could possibly give a person: a genuine smile of appreciation.</p>
<p>“I’m very glad to have been of assistance,” he said.</p>
<p>Beside him, Layton cradled his chin in deep thought.</p>
<p>“How did you come to take the role of the Minstrel?” he asked. “I can’t imagine you volunteered to stand on a mountaintop in the dead of Scottish winter for nights on end.”</p>
<p>“No, I most certainly did not!” Edgeworth snapped. “If you must know, I was in the King’s Arms on my first night and happened to let slip that I’ve played the violin since I was ten years old. It was then proposed that I play from the Pictish Shrine atop that mountain, as it would allow the entire village to hear my playing.”</p>
<p>The uncharacteristic vulnerability continued as Edgeworth cast his eyes down at the floor in a noticeably bashful manner.</p>
<p>“Of course, since I am nothing if not a prideful fool,” he continued, “I accepted, but every time I thought I’d had enough and tried to leave that shrine, I found that the path back was blocked off. Either that or it had somehow vanished. It didn’t reappear until the sun rose again, and I had spent the entire night playing simply to pass the time.”</p>
<p>Phoenix found himself scowling in confusion.</p>
<p>“You couldn’t find the exit?” he asked. “But it was right there! We went in and out without any trouble at all!”</p>
<p>“That cave entrance had ivy all over it, right?” Trucy remembered. “Maybe those vines covered up the exit and Uncle Miles couldn’t see it in the dark.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth stared at them both in bafflement.</p>
<p>“There’s <em>ivy?</em>” he asked.</p>
<p>“You didn’t see it?!” exclaimed Luke.</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t!” Edgeworth insisted. “In my cold-addled mind, I thought the exit had vanished!”</p>
<p>“Please try to calm yourself, Mr Edgeworth,” the Professor said soothingly, and he pressed the prosecutor onto the sofa with a gentle hand on his arm. “You won’t do yourself any good by getting stressed.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth huddled himself into the jacket.</p>
<p>He almost looked small, sitting there on the couch, trying not to think too hard about the awful experience he’d been put through during the past few weeks.</p>
<p>Then he took a deep breath and all that composure came flooding back.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” he said, once again calm as could be. “In any case, after that first night, I found that my car had fallen into a gorge. I was promised that if I played for another night, it would count as payment towards fishing it out, but that didn’t happen. After that, the excuses kept piling up until they reached outright coercion. The promise that I wouldn’t be allowed to leave or to contact the outside world unless I played for that <em>damned</em> Painted King.”</p>
<p>He stared blankly at nothing again.</p>
<p>Much as he was determined to keep it private, his struggle to hide his frustration and the way he clutched that hoodie like it was a lifejacket spoke volumes about how badly his experience had shaken him. As far as Phoenix knew, the only times Edgeworth had ever behaved this way before were when he had been unable to avoid getting caught in an earthquake.</p>
<p>But as Phoenix considered the village and everything in it that his friend must have seen during his time here, a sudden realisation slammed him in the gut.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you just take the bus to Aberdeen?” he asked.</p>
<p>If looks could kill, the glare that Edgeworth shot at Phoenix was comparable to a thermonuclear detonation.</p>
<p>“There’s a BUS?” he snarled.</p>
<p>Holy crap. He really, honestly, <em>did not know</em>. Somehow, by some miracle, he’d gone weeks on end without ever seeing that vehicle or even discovering its existence!</p>
<p>But then again, if he’d spent most of his time awake at night…</p>
<p>“You know what, that’s fair,” Phoenix decided. “I can’t say I’m surprised you don’t know. You were sleeping all day and freezing all night. Plus it apparently only comes here every fifth day. Of <em>course</em> you didn’t know there’s a bus service.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t say I was sleeping <em>all</em> day,” said Edgeworth. “I had to practise, after all. I had to make sure I had a good variety of tunes to play. I would have driven myself and everyone else insane had I played the Steel Samurai theme every night, not that it wasn’t tempting.”</p>
<p>Phoenix tried not to snigger.</p>
<p>“I know you were playing it last night, you sly dog,” he said with a smile. “That’s how I realised it was you. Who the hell else would be so shameless?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth smiled right back.</p>
<p>“One does what one can to keep one’s spirits up,” he stated.</p>
<p>“Where have you been all this time?” asked Luke. “Surely you weren’t spending every waking moment on that mountain!”</p>
<p>“No, I wasn’t,” Edgeworth replied. “I spent my nights on that mountain and my days in the first room of the King’s Arms, my door labelled Do Not Disturb to keep me private.”</p>
<p>Phoenix thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t been drinking at that moment, because if he had, he would have choked the liquid back up.</p>
<p>“You were in <em>there?</em>” he spluttered.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Edgeworth. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Daddy and I spent two nights sleeping right next to where you were staying!” Trucy explained.</p>
<p>Edgeworth’s eyes widened. He seemed astounded at the revelation.</p>
<p>“You were <em>what?!</em>” he spat.</p>
<p>“You were right there,” Phoenix said, mostly to himself. “All this time, you were <em>right there</em>. If I’d just looked through that goddamn keyhole…”</p>
<p>“You aren’t to blame, Phoenix,” Layton told him. “There was no way you could have known.”</p>
<p>“Ms Hill told me not to try to go in there!” Phoenix pointed out, and he grabbed the couch’s arm to keep himself from running right out the door into the snow again. “Why the hell did I listen to her?!”</p>
<p>“Wright, for heaven’s sake, stop blaming yourself!” Edgeworth suddenly snapped. “Why in the world do you always have to make yourself such a bloody martyr?”</p>
<p>Phoenix looked back at his friend to make sure he wasn’t about to spring up and punch him in the face.</p>
<p>“It isn’t your fault I was up on that mountain, you hear me?” It was likely the only reason Edgeworth wasn’t shouting was because he was still too washed out. “It’s because of you I’m <em>not</em> up there anymore!”</p>
<p>He scowled at Phoenix, and images of last night flashed through the former attorney’s mind. Struggling to keep the unconscious Edgeworth secure and balanced on his back while they navigated that narrow stone passage down the mountain, trying not to slip on the icy steps once they emerged into the snow, running as fast as he could back to the cottage and ignoring the pleas to slow down so that everyone else could keep up…</p>
<p>…he’d succeeded.</p>
<p>They’d won. They’d beaten the cruel northern elements. Edgeworth was here and he was alive and awake and he was <em>safe</em>.</p>
<p>“…yeah,” Phoenix breathed. “Yeah, I’m sorry, you’re right. That isn’t important. The important thing is that you’re here now. You’re alive.”</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Edgeworth curtly replied. “And damn well grateful for it.”</p>
<p>And as kind as ever, Phoenix thought to himself.</p>
<p>He had to get that through his head. He felt like he’d have to keep telling himself this for the rest of his life. Edgeworth was fine. He was alive and safe. Alive and safe and warm and well and <em>alive</em> and <em>they’d saved him</em> and he was <em>fine</em>.</p>
<p>God, why did this always happen? Fighting with his own mind like this was <em>agonising</em>.</p>
<p>He pressed his face into his hands and dug his fingers into his already messy hair, as though massaging his cranium would be enough to somehow drag him out of another paralysing thought spiral.</p>
<p>“I’m almost afraid to ask,” he heard Luke say slowly, “but who did this to you? Who convinced you to play that violin up there?”</p>
<p>Phoenix looked up from his hands. He too was curious about who was to blame for Edgeworth nearly freezing to death on a mountaintop. The mere thought of someone doing that to him was driving up his heart rate.</p>
<p>Edgeworth, however, just fidgeted his fingers on the jacket he was borrowing. The jacket he had insisted on taking in place of Phoenix’s fur-lined hood because he supposedly didn’t like the smell of Phoenix’s deodorant.</p>
<p>“I…” His voice… no, his whole demeanour had become hesitant. “I can’t say.”</p>
<p>Luke slapped his face with a groan.</p>
<p>“Don’t tell us you’ve been sworn to silence in the name of the Painted King,” he complained.</p>
<p>“Of course not!” Edgeworth frowned. “You would never find me buying into such hogwash! It’s not that I don’t <em>want</em> to tell any of you, nor that I don’t believe you deserve to know. It’s that I mustn’t tell you because the political ramifications would be terrible!”</p>
<p>The temperature in the cottage plummeted.</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t move. He hardly dared to breathe.</p>
<p>He looked over at Luke, but the teen just seemed confused about the sudden change in the atmosphere. Trucy was looking between the adults in bewilderment, but Phoenix had no idea how he was going to even <em>begin</em> to explain the problem to her.</p>
<p>Layton, however, seemed to have realised the implications of what Edgeworth had said just as easily as Phoenix did.</p>
<p>“Political, you say?” he asked, dark eyes narrowing in suspicion.</p>
<p>“What do you mean, political?” Luke demanded. “I don’t see how this could affect…”</p>
<p>When he trailed off, Phoenix looked over at him to check that he was okay just in time to see the boy’s eyes widening in horror.</p>
<p>“Professor,” said Phoenix, “I’m pretty sure there’s only one politician in this village.”</p>
<p>A gasp from Trucy signalled that she had pieced together the puzzle as well.</p>
<p>Edgeworth, meanwhile, eyed the group with a grim smirk.</p>
<p>“So you put it together, did you?” he determined.</p>
<p>“What did you expect?” asked Phoenix. “We’re not idiots, Edgeworth!”</p>
<p>“What should we do?” Trucy asked worriedly. “What <em>can</em> we do?”</p>
<p>Layton got to his feet.</p>
<p>“I believe the best course of action would be for us to leave immediately,” he stated. “I may have contacts who will be able to help us get out of this village. We can’t afford to sit and wait until the next bus or else-”</p>
<p>
  <em>*tap tap tap*</em>
</p>
<p>The atmosphere in the room somehow grew even colder.</p>
<p>Every hair on Phoenix’s body stood on end as he looked over at the front door.</p>
<p>“Trucy. Professor. <em>Hide</em>,” he ordered. “Edgeworth, you-”</p>
<p>“I know,” said Edgeworth.</p>
<p>He flattened himself on the sofa and threw the blanket he had used prior over his body. Layton took Trucy’s hand and they ran for the bathroom while Phoenix jumped off the couch and snatched the violin case off the dining table.</p>
<p>Under the sink? No, that could get damp. The food cupboard was a safer bet. He shoved tins of fruit, beans and spaghetti aside and pushed the case to the back, where it would be safely hidden. He heard the bathroom door shut behind him and closed the cupboard just in time for the click of the front door opening.</p>
<p>“Oh,” he heard Luke say. “Good morning, officers. How may I help you?”</p>
<p>“Is he here?”</p>
<p>Oh no.</p>
<p>Phoenix almost didn’t want to get up. It was <em>them</em>.</p>
<p>“Is who here?” Luke asked innocently.</p>
<p>“You already know who!” snapped one of the cops. “Where is he?”</p>
<p>“We’ve already called on every building in this village-”</p>
<p>“-so this is the only place left for him to be hiding!”</p>
<p>Phoenix pressed himself back up to his feet. He wasn’t a violent man by any means, but if it came to it, he stood a better chance than Luke.</p>
<p>“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” Luke insisted.</p>
<p>No sooner had Phoenix looked back to the front door than a pair of identical redheads shoved Luke aside and stormed into the building.</p>
<p>“Hey!” Luke tried uselessly. “You can’t just-”</p>
<p>“You.” One of the officers prodded a finger at Phoenix’s face. “Where is he?”</p>
<p>Phoenix shrugged as casually as he could.</p>
<p>“I heard you guys from the front door and I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he lied. “If you want the Professor, he hasn’t come back here-”</p>
<p>“Who gives a damn about that bloody Professor?!” the other cop shouted him down.</p>
<p>“Oi,” said the first. “Check this out.”</p>
<p>He pointed at one of the couches. At the blanket that was draped over the cushions.</p>
<p>“O-oh, that-that’s nothing!” Luke stammered as he ran over. “I spilled some tea on that sofa last night and I didn’t want anybody to sit on it until-”</p>
<p>The Officers Poe didn’t listen.</p>
<p>They grabbed the blanket by its edge and whipped it off the couch, revealing the dirty, thin, burgundy-clad man who lay underneath, huddled into the ugly grey hoodie he had taken temporary possession of.</p>
<p>When he was revealed, he stared up at the police in alarm, glancing between them, no doubt trying to gather his thoughts.</p>
<p>“Good morning to you too,” he said in the most fake casual tone Phoenix had ever seen.</p>
<p>The cops didn’t buy it for a second.</p>
<p>“Get up.” One of them grabbed him by the shoulder.</p>
<p>“On your feet!” The other seized his sleeve and dragged him to his feet.</p>
<p>“You’ve got some questions to answer, mate!” The first shoved him towards the front door.</p>
<p>“Whoa, whoa!” Phoenix ran over, flailing wildly to get their attention. “Hold on a sec! Where are you taking him and why? He didn’t do anything!”</p>
<p>Officers Poe turned to face him, poison in their eyes.</p>
<p>“Miles Edgeworth is under arrest for second-degree murder,” one of them replied.</p>
<p>Phoenix could only blink in shock.</p>
<p>These people seriously thought Edgeworth had killed someone?</p>
<p>No, they’d said second-degree. So they thought he’d told somebody else to kill someone? But he’d been here for the entire night! And nobody in the village would have listened to him if he’d done that, would they?</p>
<p>Not only that, but Phoenix knew Edgeworth. He wasn’t the manipulative type. He would <em>not</em> make any attempts to persuade someone to commit murder. From what Phoenix had heard, he hadn’t even held a grudge against people who’d held him hostage and blindfolded him with a nightmarish mascot head!</p>
<p>There had to be some kind of mistake!</p>
<p>“Murder?!” Luke seemed equally as alarmed as Phoenix. “How could he have murdered anyone?”</p>
<p>“You’ve been researching our village, haven’t you?” one of the cops demanded.</p>
<p>Luke gave them a puzzled frown.</p>
<p>“I, um, I’ve tried my best,” he replied. “The books in the library are all very thick and obtuse-”</p>
<p>“So you know about the Minstrel and how important he is-”</p>
<p>“-and why he needs to play all night, every night?”</p>
<p>Phoenix suddenly understood the Professor’s fatherly nature regarding Luke. Seeing these police officers almost shouting in his face was filling him with the urge to shove them away from him and demand an apology.</p>
<p>Luke, meanwhile, rubbed his sweater’s blue wool between his fingers.</p>
<p>“…um…” he said nervously.</p>
<p>“Listen, you little English brat.” One of the officers prodded Luke in the chest, pushing him backwards into a couch’s arm. “Unless the Silver Violin is played for the entire night-”</p>
<p>“-from the Pictish Shrine, so that the entire village can hear the music-” the second continued.</p>
<p>“-the Painted King’s horde attack the village!” the cops shouted in chorus.</p>
<p>“Ah, I think I understand,” Edgeworth said calmly. “You think that because I stopped playing last night due to the fact that I almost died, I allowed one of your fellow citizens to be attacked. Is that correct?”</p>
<p>Miles Edgeworth. If there was a championship game for sarcasm, he would easily have made it past the grand finals with a shining silver medal.</p>
<p>“Exactly!” snapped one of the cops. “Rattling windows all night-”</p>
<p>“-doors opening and closing on their own-”</p>
<p>“-and wouldn’t you know it? Last night, our mayor was murdered!”</p>
<p>That last sentence was enough to shock Phoenix out of his attempts to intervene by pointing out that he hadn’t heard any rattling windows or runaway doors last night.</p>
<p>The person who’d been murdered was the Mayor?</p>
<p>Mayor <em>Skellig?!</em></p>
<p>The shady woman who’d all but demanded that he and Layton get the hell out of their village? Who’d eyed him with a creepy smile all through his attempts to prevent the Professor from being shipped out in chains?</p>
<p><em>She</em> was the one who was dead?</p>
<p>She was the one who was <em>dead?!</em></p>
<p>“…what?” was all he could find it in himself to say.</p>
<p>This was a lie. Surely. <em>Surely</em> this had to be some kind of elaborate trick the village had come together to pull on the outsiders.</p>
<p>“Discovered by her own daughter!” one of the officers shouted furiously.</p>
<p>“Her blood all over the floor!” the second added venomously.</p>
<p>“Her office locked from the inside!” the first added.</p>
<p>Phoenix’s head felt light. He had to remind himself not to sit down in the middle of the conversation.</p>
<p>“So you think she was killed by a spirit?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“Mayor Skellig is dead…” Phoenix said weakly.</p>
<p>“And where’s the Silver Violin?” one of the officers demanded.</p>
<p>Phoenix mentally slapped himself out of his dizziness. He couldn’t afford to thought spiral again. Not here. Not now. Not <em>again</em>.</p>
<p>“Violin?” he asked innocently. “What violin?”</p>
<p>“The Silver Violin that the Minstrel has to play to-”</p>
<p>“Oh, what’s the point? Let’s just get this twat back to the station!”</p>
<p>They steered the unresisting Edgeworth towards the door and shoved him in the back.</p>
<p>“Hey!” Phoenix shouted.</p>
<p>“Stop!” Luke caught up to the officers before Phoenix did. “If you don’t have any proof, then you don’t have any right to arrest Mr Edgeworth-!”</p>
<p>“STEP OFF!”</p>
<p>The officers thrust out their hands and pushed Luke back with such force that the boy tripped over his heels and toppled to the ground, slamming the back of his head far too hard on the solid floorboards.</p>
<p>Or at least, that would have happened had Phoenix not been there to catch him mere inches from the floor.</p>
<p>Luke lay in his hands, struggling for breath. The poor kid was so stunned that he couldn’t even move.</p>
<p>Once sure that he was okay, Phoenix looked up at the police officers. He found himself hoping that the daggers he shot at these creeps could slit their throats and put this entire village out of their misery.</p>
<p>“At least let us make it fair, alright?” He tried to speak as calmly as he could, defying the rage he could feel welling up in his stomach. “Take this to trial. Like we did yesterday and the day before. I’m not going to let you send a man to prison based on nothing but an assumption that a woman was killed by a goddamn <em>ghost</em>.”</p>
<p>The cops glared down at him like he was something they’d picked off their shoes.</p>
<p>Edgeworth managed a glance over his shoulder that seemed to say ‘nice try’.</p>
<p>But in spite of his pessimism, the police replied with a simple four-word statement:</p>
<p>“We’ll think about it.”</p>
<p>And then they grabbed Edgeworth by the shoulders and forced him out of the cottage, slamming the front door so hard that the windows rattled in their frames.</p>
<p>Only once they were gone did Phoenix and Luke share an exhausted sigh of relief. Trucy and Layton were still safe, the police were gone and now they had a little bit of space and time they could use to <em>think</em>.</p>
<p>Then the bathroom door burst open.</p>
<p>“Luke!” The Professor made a beeline for his apprentice and took him by the hand. “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, Professor,” Luke replied as Layton pulled him to his feet. “Mr Wright stopped me from getting hurt.”</p>
<p>“We heard the whole thing.” Trucy’s fists were clenched and raised, ready for battle. “How DARE those jerks arrest Uncle Miles!”</p>
<p>Phoenix sat down on the couch arm with a groan.</p>
<p>“Just when we thought we were getting somewhere,” he sighed.</p>
<p>“Do you think they were lying?” asked Luke. “Or is the mayor actually dead?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think even those guys would lie about something like that,” Phoenix pointed out, “but I understand the hesitation. Wouldn’t put it past them to just up and arrest Edgeworth for no reason.”</p>
<p>Luke’s jaw dropped in shock.</p>
<p>“Th-that can’t be…” he gasped. “I only spoke to her yesterday afternoon! How could… if she’s really dead, then…”</p>
<p>He stumbled, but his mentor was there to catch him and make sure he didn’t fall over again.</p>
<p>“What to do next?” Layton asked. “Perhaps we should-”</p>
<p>“YOU aren’t going anywhere,” Phoenix interjected. “Neither are you, Trucy.”</p>
<p>Trucy gasped, stomped her foot indignantly and glared at him like he’d just insulted her finest rabbit.</p>
<p>“You guys are still fugitives, remember?” he reminded her. “If either of you try getting involved in this, you’re going to be joining Edgeworth in the cells.”</p>
<p>“Ah, of course,” said Layton, with an uncharacteristic expression of noticeable distaste. “No thank you. One night was uncomfortable enough.”</p>
<p>“But we can’t just let them lock up Mr Edgeworth!” Luke pointed out. “Unless staying alive is a crime, he hasn’t done anything wrong!”</p>
<p>“Defying his captors may count as a point against him,” Layton suggested, “but if the mayor was the ringleader and the ringleader is dead, then I have no idea what her subordinates may try to do to him in her absence.”</p>
<p>“Daddy, you said they should take it to trial, didn’t you?” asked Trucy. “Are you sure you’re okay to do that again?”</p>
<p>Phoenix found his hand wandering to his upper left arm. To where his skin had been bruised by the doctor jabbing him with that muscle relaxant yesterday. It had stopped hurting quite a while ago, but the lingering memory of such a jab even being necessary smacked him in the gut and filled his heart to overflowing with guilt.</p>
<p>Enough was enough. He couldn’t do this anymore. The best way to avert disaster was to prevent it from ever happening, and in that vein, never set foot in a courtroom again, let alone stand behind the defence’s bench.</p>
<p>But he was the only person who was a) halfway qualified enough to try to keep Edgeworth out of prison and b) not currently wanted for murder or for aiding a murderer.</p>
<p>So what other options did he have? Sit it out and wait for the sun to expand into a red supergiant and the problem to solve itself?</p>
<p>“At this point,” he said to block himself off from overthinking, “I don’t know if I have a choice, but I do know that I’m <em>not</em> going to let my friend get sent to prison for a crime he didn’t commit, especially when I spent a whole night worried that he was going to die!”</p>
<p>When he finished talking, he realised that every eye in the room was turned in his direction, waiting for some kind of continuation.</p>
<p>“We’re all ears, Phoenix,” said Layton. “What do you propose we do?”</p>
<p>Crap.</p>
<p>So now they saw him as some kind of leader?!</p>
<p>Phoenix stroked his chin again, partly because running his fingers over his stubble somehow helped him think but mostly so that it was harder to see that he was gritting his teeth in frustration.</p>
<p>If they really were going to take this to trial, then an investigation would obviously be their best course of action. The more information they could gather, the better the chance they were going to stand against Ms Skellig the next time they saw her, and <em>boy</em> would she not be happy the next time they saw her.</p>
<p>The cops had claimed that the mayor’s blood was all over the floor and her office was locked from the inside, so it was safe to assume that office was the crime scene. They’d have to go to her house if they wanted that vital intel on what had happened last night.</p>
<p>But if Layton and Trucy were having to live in hiding, then that left only one option for who could accompany him and help him look around and keep track of everything he’d found…</p>
<p>They’d be safe. They’d be okay here so long as nobody looked through the window and the Professor relied on the radiators for heat instead of a fire. The last thing they needed was a villager getting suspicious of smoke coming from the chimney of an empty house.</p>
<p>Okay. It’d be fine. He could make this work.</p>
<p>“Professor, you mentioned contacts who could get us out of here,” he recalled. “Will you be able to get in touch with them without leaving this place?”</p>
<p>Layton nodded.</p>
<p>“This building has a phone, so of course,” he replied.</p>
<p>“Good,” said Phoenix. “Trucy, you stay with him. I know you want to help Uncle Miles, but I’m not having you getting into even more trouble than you’re already in.”</p>
<p>“Okay, Daddy!” Trucy snapped him a military-worthy salute.</p>
<p>“Luke,” Phoenix continued, “since you aren’t involved in helping a prisoner escape, you’re with me. Investigations always tend to go quicker when I’ve got a friend on my side. Extra set of eyes and all.”</p>
<p>Luke nodded too.</p>
<p>“You’ve got it, Mr Wright,” he responded.</p>
<p>“Odds are they’ll have Edgeworth in questioning for a while,” Phoenix thought aloud, still stroking his chin. “That’s what usually happens when a suspect is apprehended.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s what happened in my case,” Layton reminded him, “but if his questioning goes at all like mine did, I fear for his sanity.”</p>
<p>“Nah, he’ll be fine,” Phoenix said with a dismissive wave. “If he can handle our friend Larry, he can handle those guys.” He pressed himself away from the couch arm. “That being said, we should start by heading to the crime scene. The more we can find out from the scene itself, the better.”</p>
<p>He pulled his fur-trim hoodie from the back of the couch where Edgeworth had dumped it and approached the hooks by the front door as Luke pulled on his coat.</p>
<p>“Do be careful, both of you,” Layton said as Phoenix donned his beanie. “Should Ms Michaela be there, I doubt she would be happy to see either of your faces.”</p>
<p>Phoenix gave him a look of ‘you <em>think?</em>’ as he zipped up his hoodie.</p>
<p>“There’s a good chance she’ll blame us for her mother’s death,” Luke said, probably to himself, as he closed his coat’s toggles. “If she believes in the power of the Minstrel and that her mother was killed by a wayward spirit, and if she knows were the ones who brought Mr Edgeworth down from that mountain…”</p>
<p>The dropping of his heart was almost audible.</p>
<p>“Oh dear,” he said softly.</p>
<p>“Oh dear indeed,” Layton agreed. “Do treat her with kindness should you run into her.”</p>
<p>He looked up at Phoenix, suddenly stern.</p>
<p>“It’s almost impressive what can happen to one’s mind when confronted with loss.”</p>
<p>Crap again.</p>
<p>The less said about <em>that</em>, the better.</p>
<p>“Don’t answer the door, either of you,” Phoenix said instead of humouring Layton on his point. “As far as the rest of this village knows, you two are still somewhere out there in the mountains.”</p>
<p>“Ooh! Make sure you act panicked!” Trucy piped up. “People will think something weird’s going on if you guys aren’t worried about us!”</p>
<p>“Heh, don’t worry.” Luke gave her a Laytonesque tip of his cap. “I’ve got fear to spare for both of us.”</p>
<p>The Professor reached up and gave him a fond little pat on the head.</p>
<p>“Good luck,” he said. “Both of you.”</p>
<p>Phoenix gave his friend a nod of understanding.</p>
<p>“Same to you,” he said, and turned to his daughter. “You be good, Trucy-Goosy.”</p>
<p>“I make <em>no</em> promises.”</p>
<p>“…that’s my girl.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, um… Mr Wright?”</p>
<p>Phoenix finished tucking his scarf into his jacket as they slowly approached the bridge.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” he prompted.</p>
<p>“I feel like I should tell you, um…” Luke pressed his hands even deeper into his pockets. “Trucy and I were listening in on you and the Professor last night. We heard everything.”</p>
<p>He looked up at Phoenix as though waiting for him to scream in rage.</p>
<p>Phoenix, however, was a bit too busy trying to figure out what to say. Of <em>course</em> the kids would have been listening in, he realised. They had only been separated by the thickness of a single door, and if they wanted to know what all the shouting and crying was about…</p>
<p>“…you did, huh?” was all Phoenix could think of to say.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Luke. “I, uh… oh god.” He slapped a hand to his face. “Come on, Luke, you can’t just walk on in silence-”</p>
<p>“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Phoenix interrupted before the kid could get too worked up. “I don’t blame you for being curious. You deserved to know it anyway. I just wish you could’ve found out some other way that didn’t involve keeping my daughter awake far beyond her bedtime.”</p>
<p>He hoped the look he was giving was enough to pass down his annoyance.</p>
<p>“…sorry,” Luke said nervously.</p>
<p>Oh god, not <em>this</em>.</p>
<p>“No,” Phoenix said.</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>Luke was so confused that he almost walked into one of the lampposts that sat on the corner of the bridge. Phoenix pinched his sleeve and gently tugged him back onto the right path.</p>
<p>“Luke, if anybody should be apologising, it’s me,” Phoenix told him as they mounted the bridge. “I shouldn’t…”</p>
<p>Uh-oh. This was going to be rough. Telling the Professor about this a couple of days ago had been hard enough, but now he was going to have to phrase these thoughts in a way a teenager could not only understand, but not end up feeling responsible for. Yes, Luke was an intelligent boy who was very mature for his age, but he was still just a <em>kid</em>.</p>
<p>Maybe he was overthinking this. He’d been doing that a lot ever since he’d lost his badge. Maybe it would be easier just to approach it the same way he had with the Professor and hope that Luke would understand that he was being sincere.</p>
<p>“I don’t like the person I’ve become since I lost my job,” Phoenix told him. “I don’t <em>like</em> constantly being bitter or pushing people away when they’re only trying to help me. I know that doesn’t make much sense considering that’s pretty much all I’ve been doing ever since we met on that train, but…”</p>
<p>Having to compile his thoughts and explain them was <em>exhausting</em>.</p>
<p>“I don’t even know why I do it,” he sighed. “I know it’s not good for me, but for some reason, I… I just keep…”</p>
<p>And he didn’t even know if there was any point to it. Didn’t even know if Luke could tell he was being honest in what he was saying. For all he knew, this kid was going to punch him in the face for making excuses and storm right back to the cottage.</p>
<p>But instead, he just looked up at Phoenix with wide, sad dark eyes.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Mr Wright,” he said. “I understand.”</p>
<p>Phoenix held himself back from collapsing in relief.</p>
<p>“You do, huh?” he asked instead.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, with everything you’ve had to put up with, are you really surprised that you’re angry all the time?” Luke pointed out. “I can’t blame you for not wanting me or the Professor to find out what had happened! It sounded terrible! You were-” He cut himself off as another thought occurred to him. “Did you have any reputation before you lost the job?”</p>
<p>Phoenix almost snorted again. Oh, the stories he could tell…</p>
<p>“I was definitely making myself quite notorious,” he replied. “I caught quite a lot of killers, helped a whole bunch of people, solved crimes, brought justice…” He shrugged. “You know. The whole lawyer thing. I must’ve been pretty famous because after I got home from Labyrinthia, I found out some guy had impersonated me so he could flub a trial to get away with murder and pin the blame on an innocent waitress!”</p>
<p>By the time he had finished, Luke was staring at him in amazement.</p>
<p>“…wow,” he gasped.</p>
<p>“Exactly,” said Phoenix.</p>
<p>“That’s more than I expected,” Luke clarified, “but am I right in guessing that your reputation got tanked overnight?”</p>
<p>As they stepped off the bridge and boarded the mainland, Phoenix gritted his teeth at the memories that flashed through his mind.</p>
<p>“Not quite overnight,” he explained. “More like over the course of a week as people gradually found out. But you’re not wrong there. Pretty much everyone distrusted me after the mess that got me set up for forgery. Some of my clients sent me messages showing their support, but they were dwarfed by the number of letters I had thrown at me that were…”</p>
<p>What was a good way to describe it so that an English kid unfamiliar with these kinds of messages would understand?</p>
<p>“You ever seen Harry Potter?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>“I prefer the books,” said Luke, “and even then, I’m really more of a Discworld person, but yes.”</p>
<p>“You remember that bit in the second movie where Ron opens that letter and it screams at him in his mom’s voice?”</p>
<p>“Vividly. I can’t help thinking about all the times I overslept and made myself late for school. Mum was so angry at me…”</p>
<p>“That’s pretty much what those messages were like,” Phoenix explained, and avoided the caveat that it was also what his brain sounded like every moment of the day. “All about how I was a lying traitor who should be ashamed of myself and should be thrown into prison with every innocent person I’d ever seen convicted. That kind of vibe.”</p>
<p>“So is it any wonder you didn’t trust the Professor and I?” asked Luke. “For all you knew, we were going to turn against you like all those other people did!”</p>
<p>Man, it really was no wonder Layton liked this kid so much. Phoenix told himself right then that if he were ever to find someone to help him clear his name, it would <em>have</em> to be someone equally as earnest and intelligent as Luke was.</p>
<p>But it couldn’t be Luke himself. He deserved better than to have to spend time around someone like Phoenix.</p>
<p>“It’s an explanation, Luke,” he pointed out. “It doesn’t excuse my behaviour. I’m not…”</p>
<p>Maybe it would be better just to cut the crap and get to the point.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” said Phoenix. “I shouldn’t have been talking to you or the Professor the way I did. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep myself from doing it again, but I’m going to try.”</p>
<p>He ducked his head to avoid a support beam as they wandered between the legs of the bell tower.</p>
<p>“I want to be a better person,” he said. “I don’t want to push people away when they only want to help me.”</p>
<p>“The fact that you know it’s a problem is already a big step forward!” Luke insisted. “I’m sure you’re going to be fine! The Professor wasn’t lying. You’re a good person, Phoenix Wright!”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s face flushed against the chilled air that surrounded them. He’d held back from telling Layton last night, but hearing people express their faith in him like that was, while heartwarming, downright embarrassing.</p>
<p>But sweet. Incredibly, indescribably sweet. Almost enough to make him want to fulfil their faith and prove that yes, he was fine, he <em>was</em> still a good person.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Luke,” he said. “That means a lot to me.”</p>
<p>Luke responded with a proud smile as they neared the village’s prized, somehow unfrozen pond.</p>
<p>“Hey!”</p>
<p>The shout came from somewhere further up the path, beyond the police station that stood nearby.</p>
<p>“Hmm?” Luke peered around in search of the source. “Who’s-”</p>
<p>“Hey, hey!” A dark, lumpy figure stumbled into view and staggered towards them through the snow. “You come here and listen to me, you… you <em>prats!</em>”</p>
<p>It was Nosie Oldfart. Chunks of downy feathers had been ripped from her coat, leaving it patchy and threadbare enough to see her thin figure underneath, and her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Phoenix could have believed that she had just been crying were it not for her equally red nose, flushed cheeks and the stench of alcohol that wafted from her body.</p>
<p>He had just enough time to think that all she needed was a bottle to complete the picture when, lo and behold, she waved a half-empty bottle of amber liquid in their direction.</p>
<p>Phoenix took a deep breath. Just when this morning’s situation couldn’t get any more awkward.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Mrs Oldfart,” he said as calmly as he could. “I’m very sorry about what happened yesterday. I don’t blame you if you can’t forgive me for-”</p>
<p>“Forgive, forgive, <em>psssh!</em>” She sprayed spittle all over the snow. “It’s all a load of- a fat lot of cack and you know it!”</p>
<p>“M-Mrs Oldfart, have you been drinking?!” Luke spluttered in disbelief.</p>
<p>“So what if I have, you horse’s arse?” One of Nosie’s eyes was half-lidded as she jabbed her bottle in Luke’s face. “My husband’s dead, half the village things I kschilled him and it’s all your bloody stupid fault!”</p>
<p>She slammed the bottle into her mouth and her throat bobbed menacingly as she chugged down the contents.</p>
<p>“Y-yes, yes, I know.” Stay calm, Phoenix told himself, just <em>stay calm</em>. “Listen, if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you-”</p>
<p>“Aw, shove it up your arse!”</p>
<p>Phoenix only barely had a chance to register what she’d said before she loosened her lips from the bottle and swung it into his head.</p>
<p>His feet slipped on the snow. The force of the collision sent him spiralling to the ground.</p>
<p>He lay there, pain and rushing heat pounding in his ear. He prised his eyes open and all he could see was whiteness and sparks flashing across his vision.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright!” he heard Luke shout from somewhere far away.</p>
<p>His entire body felt heavy. Every movement took a lifetime. Even breathing was something he had to focus on. He forced his hand through the snow and pressed it to his thumping head.</p>
<p>“Agh…” He closed his eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning. “…ow…”</p>
<p>“Go on now, get up!” he heard Mrs Oldfart shout, her voice slowly getting harsher and more coherent as the rushing and pounding noises subsided. “I’m ready to fight! Get up in- get up and fight!”</p>
<p>Even though his mind screamed at him to stay there and take a nice long nap, Phoenix eased himself up onto his elbow. At the very least, he told himself, his feet slipping in the snow had kept him from falling into the Sacred Well.</p>
<p>“Mrs Oldfart, why don’t you just sit down over here?” His blurred vision swam back into focus and he saw Luke leading the drunken widow over to the police station’s doorstep. “If either of the Officers Poe are in, then I’m sure they’ll be able to help you get home and have a cup of tea-”</p>
<p>“I don’t want tea!” Nosie shouted, even though she obediently sat down. “I want more…”</p>
<p>She swung her bottle back into view and eyeballed its label.</p>
<p>“…was this say?” She tugged on Luke’s arm. “Hey you, what’s this say?”</p>
<p>Phoenix punched into the ground to push himself up further. Somewhere a million miles away, he heard Luke hammering on the police station door.</p>
<p>“It says you should wait here for the officers to help you, Mrs Oldfart,” the poor boy lied. “Can you manage that?”</p>
<p>It took every drop of effort he had, but Phoenix managed to shove himself up onto his knees.</p>
<p>“Will they let me drink more?” he heard Mrs Oldfart ask.</p>
<p>“I’m sure they will,” said Luke. “Please just wait here and don’t try to assault anybody else.”</p>
<p>The approaching crunches of snow underfoot told Phoenix that Luke was running back to him.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, are you okay?!” He grabbed Phoenix by his upper arm and <em>pulled</em>. “Should we go and see Dr Wallace or-”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Phoenix interrupted.</p>
<p>He tried not to waver as he got to his feet and pressed his hand to his head. The pounding and heat were subsiding in favour of a soft, dull ache. All he could do right now was hope that the bottle hadn’t popped anything in his brain.</p>
<p>He rubbed his face. If people kept attacking him like this…</p>
<p>No. No, he was okay. He was pretty much used to it by now.</p>
<p>By this point, he had no idea <em>what</em> it would take to kill him.</p>
<p>“If there’s one thing my life’s taught me,” he told Luke, “it’s that the only thing harder than my skull is an industrial diamond. Even then, I don’t know if the odds are good for the diamond.”</p>
<p>He shook his head, forcing himself back into total coherency, and patted his hips and stomach to make sure he hadn’t lost anything in the fall.</p>
<p>When he hit his stomach, he froze.</p>
<p>“Oh crud.”</p>
<p>Cold dread pooled in his stomach as he checked his jacket pockets and was met by empty fabric.</p>
<p>Where did it go?!</p>
<p>“What is it?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“I had it in my pocket when I fell, my- where is it?” Phoenix stared at the snow around them, searching for an ovular indentation and a hint of jade green. “Do you see my magatama anywhere?”</p>
<p>“Your what?”</p>
<p>“My magatama!” Phoenix dropped to his knees again and felt around in the snow. “That green amulet I showed you a couple of nights ago, it- crap, where did it go?!”</p>
<p>He scooped the snow this way and that. It had to be somewhere around here, didn’t it?</p>
<p>“I think I heard something…” Luke ran to the well and leaned to look into the water. “Ah! Mr Wright! There in the water!”</p>
<p>Phoenix hurried to his side and followed his gaze, and saw his precious magatama sitting on the pond’s floor, being examined by a curious fish. Thank goodness the water was only a few inches deep.</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>thank god</em>,” he sighed, and he tugged off his glove and rolled up his sleeve. “Thanks, Luke.”</p>
<p>Strange. He had expected the water to be as cold as the snow that surrounded it, but it felt oddly warm around his fingers as he picked up the magatama. Maybe it was volcanic? Some hot spring from deep inside the mountains?</p>
<p>Were the Cairngorms volcanic? He didn’t know.</p>
<p>He shook his hand dry and examined the magatama to check that it hadn’t been scuffed or scratched by its fall. Maya would never forgive him if this thing got damaged.</p>
<p>Or if it got…</p>
<p>“Huh.” Phoenix held it a little further away to get a better look at it overall. “That’s weird.”</p>
<p>“What’s weird?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>Phoenix switched it to his still-gloved hand to compare the colour.</p>
<p>“I don’t know if it was this colour when I last used it,” he explained, and he held it up for Luke to see. “What do you think? You’ve seen this thing before. Does it look brighter to you?”</p>
<p>Luke leaned on his knees and squinted at the amulet.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright,” he said flatly, “the last time I saw it was in the middle of the night with the yellow street lamps on. I could barely even tell that it <em>had</em> colour.”</p>
<p>Phoenix passed it another look. It definitely <em>did</em> look a lighter shade of green than it had the last time he’d taken a look at it.</p>
<p>“Fair point,” he replied. “Maybe it’s just me, but I could’ve sworn…”</p>
<p>He eased himself back up to his feet.</p>
<p>“Whatever,” he sighed. “Glad I didn’t lose it.”</p>
<p>He slipped the magatama into his jeans pocket this time and pulled his glove back on before his hand had a chance to freeze.</p>
<p>“Come on, let’s get moving,” he said, and motioned towards the nearby slope with his still-aching head. “It’s best to get to the crime scene before everything’s disturbed too much.”</p>
<p>It seemed like the magatama wasn’t the only troublesome green this morning. Luke’s cheeks had decided to give it a run for its money.</p>
<p>“I really hope there isn’t too much blood…” he said quietly.</p>
<p>“You can step out if you feel the need to,” Phoenix reassured him. “I won’t blame you.”</p>
<p>Luke nodded.</p>
<p>“So Mr Wright, you’re taking Mr Edgeworth’s case?”</p>
<p>Phoenix froze.</p>
<p>In all this time, he’d never really considered it. He’d been talking like he’d made up his mind, but had he really thought to himself that this was what he was actually going to do?</p>
<p>Because as far as he could tell…</p>
<p>“…yeah,” he replied. “I guess I am.”</p>
<p>“Even though nobody asked you to?”</p>
<p>“He’s my friend. I’m not going to let him go to prison.”</p>
<p>Luke’s eyes widened. He hunched into his shoulders with a gigantic grin of unabashed glee.</p>
<p>“What’s that look for?” Phoenix asked in amusement.</p>
<p>“Nothing, nothing, I- it’s nothing!” Luke insisted. “Like you said, let’s go! If there <em>is</em> blood, then I’d like to be in and out as quickly as possible!”</p>
<p>“Can’t blame you there,” Phoenix replied, and he looked back at the police station doorstep. “Take care, Mrs Oldfart.”</p>
<p>“Push off,” spat Nosie.</p>
<p>Well, you couldn’t win them all. Phoenix pocketed his hands and he and Luke started up the slope, making a beeline for the steps to the Skellig residence.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Bloodstained House part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: emetophobia</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Phoenix kept his hands in his pockets as they entered the house. With how cold he remembered this place being the last time he was there, he wanted to be prepared in case he had to freeze again.</p><p>But when he crossed the threshold, he couldn’t help but notice a <em>lack</em> of drop in temperature.</p><p>Was the cooling system broken? Or had it been switched off? Either way, it was a relief.</p><p>Luke, however, gave a powerful shudder.</p><p>“Is it just me,” he said, “or is it just as cold in here as it is outside?”</p><p>“Not just you,” Phoenix assured him. “A couple of days ago, last time I was here, it was actually <em>colder</em>.”</p><p>“What?!” Luke gaped in astonishment. “That’s insane!”</p><p>“The mayor made ice sculptures,” Phoenix explained. “I think she wanted to preserve them. Michaela told us it was because her mother wanted to keep a sharp mind, but I think it was more about the sculptures than anything else.”</p><p>“Who goes there? Is that you, Mr Wright?”</p><p>Oh, now <em>that</em> was a voice he recognised by now.</p><p>Phoenix slowly pushed the nearby door open to reveal the office beyond, and the white-clad man who straightened to his feet upon seeing him.</p><p>“Ah, hey Doc,” he said casually. “How’s it going?”</p><p>“How do you bloody well think?” spat Dr Wallace. “I’m a doctor, not a detective!” He picked a small white plastic bag up off the floor. “Thank Christ you two showed up! Perhaps now I can get back to my clinic and do my actual <em>job!</em>”</p><p>“We’re sorry!” cried Luke. “We can take it from here, I promise!”</p><p>“Yes, we can,” said Phoenix as he entered the office, “but do you think you could tell us what you’ve learned before you go? Anything you can tell us would be super helpful for our case. The more we learn, the better.”</p><p>He kept his attention on the doctor, but to the side of his vision, he could tell there was a large red puddle on the floor and the mantlepiece was a lot barer than the last time he had seen it. Hopefully he’d have plenty of time to get a better look and figure out what had happened.</p><p>The doctor, meanwhile, heaved an exhausted sigh.</p><p>“If I must,” he groaned. “You likely already know by now, but the victim was this village’s mayor, Angela Skellig. Time of death was around 9:52pm last night.”</p><p>Behind Phoenix, Luke hummed in thought.</p><p>“Mr Wright, we were already back at the cottage by then, weren’t we?” he asked.</p><p>Phoenix, however, had other things on his mind.</p><p>“That’s a pretty precise time estimate,” he pointed out. “Am I right to assume you had some way of telling?”</p><p>Dr Wallace nodded.</p><p>“She wore a watch and it broke when she hit the floor,” he explained. “I’ve yet to perform a full post-mortem examination, but preliminary findings indicate cerebral haemorrhaging via blunt force trauma to the back of the head as the cause of death.”</p><p>“So someone hit her with a blunt object,” Phoenix translated for Luke.</p><p>“I’ll give you these now.” Dr Wallace held up a pair of photos for Phoenix to take. “Photos I took of the crime scene when I first arrived.”</p><p>Phoenix didn’t want to linger on evidence that he’d have plenty of time to examine later on down the line, but he gave them a quick glance for the sake of later reference.</p><p>One showed the scene almost exactly as it appeared right now, but with one vital difference: the victim lying face up in the pool of blood that had spread around her, soaking into the back of her clothes and clogging in her hair. Her grey eyes stared emptily at the ceiling, wide and shocked. Her death seemed to have come as much as a surprise to her as it had to everybody else in her ‘darling’ village.</p><p>The other photo was a close-up of her wrist, showing that her watch had, indeed, broken at 9:52pm.</p><p>“Thanks,” Phoenix said to the doctor. “I’m sure they’ll come in useful if the cops agree to take this to trial. Luke?”</p><p>He held the photos behind his back for his temporary assistant to take and heard the boy make a strange kind of nervous squealing noise.</p><p>“…this feels wrong…” he squeaked, but took the photos nonetheless.</p><p>“So you’ll be taking over the investigation, will you?” asked Dr Wallace.</p><p>Phoenix shrugged.</p><p>“I’m no detective,” he said, “but I’ve dabbled here and there. I need enough evidence to build a case, after all, and every time I <em>do</em> work with a detective, they’re usually on the prosecution’s side.”</p><p>“Then maybe you’ll have more use for this stuff than I did.”</p><p>Dr Wallace held up the little plastic bag for him to take.</p><p>Although he was confused, Phoenix hooked the bag off his fingers.</p><p>“What’s this?” he asked.</p><p>“Not a bloody clue!” snapped the doctor. “That officer foisted this off on me and then buggered off to arrest their suspect! Who, as far as I’m concerned, <em>deserves</em> to have been the one to kill this woman if she was making him play a violin on a mountain every bloody night!”</p><p>It was hard not to voice agreement on <em>that</em> particular sentiment. To occupy his mind, Phoenix opened the bag and had a look at its contents.</p><p>His heart skipped a beat when he saw what was in there.</p><p>This stuff… he hadn’t used it in <em>years</em>. Hadn’t thought about it for longer than that. After the last time, he’d wondered if he’d ever even get to see it again, and yet it was right here, mere inches from his fingertips, screaming at him to put it to use and solve all the crimes that the world had to offer as scientifically as he could…</p><p>“Dr Wallace, thank you from the bottom of my heart,” he said happily. “I’m sure this stuff is going to help us form the case we need to win.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Dr Wallace replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go and do my <em>actual</em> job.”</p><p>He pushed past Phoenix and Luke and stormed out the door into the clear-skied chill.</p><p>Once he was gone, Phoenix looked back down at the bag he’d been given. He was too full of glee to be angry at the doctor’s attitude and he didn’t care how much it showed. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of that bottle, that little jar, those glasses…</p><p>“Mr Wright?” said Luke. “What’s in that bag that has you so happy?”</p><p>Phoenix tried to straighten his face and cleared his throat. His cheeks hurt from how wide he had been smiling.</p><p>“Come through to the crime scene and I’ll show you,” he told his assistant.</p><p>He stepped further into the office, careful not to get near the still-wet pool of blood that had welled on the tiled floor. Phoenix noticed that this blood seemed not only far too wet to have been spilled last night, but oddly pale and… thin? Translucent may have been a better descriptor. He could see the tiles underneath and that wasn’t normal with pooling blood, was it?</p><p>The mess from the mantlepiece was all piled in front of Ms Skellig’s desk in a manner that suggested it had been pushed off in one clean sweep. The intricately carved puffins had shattered on the tiles and the picture frames that weren’t lying face down were visibly cracked if not completely shattered.</p><p>If Ms Skellig hadn’t been killed quickly, it was possible she may have tried to save her daughter’s creations, wasn’t it?</p><p>“Oh no…”</p><p>At the sound of Luke’s discomfort, Phoenix looked back at him and saw him staring, fixated, at the pool of blood.</p><p>It took a moment for Phoenix to remember just <em>why</em> he was uncomfortable.</p><p>“You alright?” he asked, and cursed himself for not considering that other people might not be as accustomed to this sort of thing as he was. At least the smell in here wasn’t as awful as it had been back on that train carriage.</p><p>“Yes, I’m fine for now,” Luke obviously lied, pressing the back of his hand to his nose. “I didn’t expect a hit to the head to produce that much blood. Does the human brain really have that many veins in it?”</p><p>“It’s always more blood than you’d expect,” Phoenix commented.</p><p>He pointed out the fireplace corner where everything on the mantlepiece had fallen.</p><p>“Check out the mess on the floor,” he told Luke. “Looks like there was a struggle.”</p><p>He leaned down on one knee and lifted up a laid-down picture frame to examine its fractured face.</p><p>“Whoever killed Ms Skellig,” he said, “she must’ve tried to fight them off.”</p><p>“Dr Wallace didn’t tell us what the murder weapon was, did he?”</p><p>“Nope. With how much he already gave us, he probably would’ve mentioned if he knew.”</p><p>“So he didn’t know…”</p><p>When Phoenix straightened up and checked on Luke again, the poor boy was still staring, equal parts horrified and enraptured, at the puddle.</p><p>“Luke, that blood is making you uncomfortable, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling a pair of the specially made glasses out of the bag as he spoke.</p><p>“I…” Luke swallowed hard as Phoenix donned the glasses. “…I can’t stop looking at it.”</p><p>“Here. Try this on.”</p><p>Phoenix held up a second pair of glasses, successfully dragging Luke’s attention away from the blood. His horror became abject bewilderment when he saw what his friend had not only just placed upon his face, but was now offering to him as well.</p><p>“…Mr Wright?” he said uncertainly. “Is this really the time to be making a fashion statement?”</p><p>“As far as I’m concerned, there’s <em>always</em> time for a fashion statement,” Phoenix told him, “but these are less about fashion and more about function. Put these on and I’ll show you what they’re for, okay?”</p><p>“…okay.”</p><p>Luke took the glasses from Phoenix’s fingers and slipped them onto his face.</p><p>“Now everything’s red,” he said, fixing Phoenix with a flat glare of annoyance. “I don’t understand.”</p><p>“Of course you don’t.” Phoenix extracted the white plastic spray bottle from within the bag and held it up for Luke to see. “Because we haven’t used <em>this</em> yet.”</p><p>“Hm? What’s that?” Luke squinted at the writing on the bottle. “Luminol testing fluid?”</p><p>“You must’ve seen detectives using this stuff on TV, right?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>Luke innocently shook his head.</p><p>Phoenix resisted a sigh. What the heck were they teaching kids in school these days? And didn’t Luke say he was into true crime documentaries? How had he missed this?!</p><p>“Well, this stuff is specially formulated to react to blood,” he explained. “Normally you’d need a UV light to see the stuff it picks up, but these glasses-” He tapped on one of the arms. “-are a decent enough substitute. Here, let me show you.”</p><p>He aimed the luminol down at the puddle and gave it a quick little spritz, and smiled as the blood was lit up by swirls of pale blue.</p><p>“Whoa!” Luke gasped in amazement. “It’s bright blue! Isn’t that-” He lifted the glasses aside for an unimpeded look at the blood. “Huh?” He lowered them again. “So it’s only the glasses that let us… what?!”</p><p>“<em>This</em> is what had me so excited about this bag of goodies Dr Wallace left us,” Phoenix explained, unable to contain his smile. “It’s a little kit for forensic investigation, and <em>this</em> stuff will help us find the real murder weapon.”</p><p>Luke’s face lit up much in the way that Phoenix’s probably had when he had looked inside the bag for the first time.</p><p>“Oh! I get it!” he said happily. “We can spray it on things and see if they react, and that’ll tell us what the killer used to hit Ms Skellig!”</p><p>“Exactly,” Phoenix replied, and he gestured to the mess beside the puddle. “Let’s try these sculptures first. With how cold the mayor kept her office, I’m willing to bet one of these would be solid and heavy enough to be deadly in the right hands.”</p><p>“But half of them are smashed!”</p><p>“Even their pieces might have residue. Come on, let’s take a look.”</p><p>There was barely enough room for his feet between the puddle of watered-down blood and the wall, so he thanked himself for remembering to bring his gloves with him when he left the cottage earlier and held onto the mantlepiece to keep himself from falling into that puddle. The village already hated him enough as it was. He would NOT win himself any favours if he fell in a pool of their dead mayor’s blood.</p><p>A glance over his shoulder told him that Luke was just leaning with his hands on his knees. An infinitely smarter idea, he considered.</p><p>Nevertheless, he sprayed at the mess all over the floor.</p><p>Save for the few droplets that drifted into the puddle, nothing showed up. Even three sprays later, there weren’t any bloodstains to be found anywhere on these chunks of ice or broken picture frames.</p><p>Phoenix pulled himself back up to his feet, relieved to have kept his balance.</p><p>“No luck,” he commented.</p><p>Luke held his hand to his face, stroking his cheek with his forefinger. It was remarkable how much he looked like the Professor when he did that.</p><p>“What about the edges or the corners of the desk and fireplace?” he asked. “It’s possible Ms Skellig fell or was pushed against it and hit her head hard enough to be fatal, and the killer or whoever was with her wiped it off before they left.”</p><p>And <em>that</em> was why Phoenix preferred to have accompaniment when he was investigating a scene.</p><p>“That’s a pretty good idea,” he told said accompaniment. “Worth ruling out, so…”</p><p>He sprayed an even layer of luminol along the length of the mantlepiece, but nothing showed up. Not even the slightest hint of his favourite colour anywhere on the polished stone surface.</p><p>“Dammit,” he muttered. “Luke, you’re closer to the desk than I am. Do you want to try this stuff out?”</p><p>“Um, okay.”</p><p>Phoenix passed the bottle over to his friend, and Luke turned it on the polished mahogany desk and sprayed along its edge. He seemed to pay particular attention to its corner, which definitely looked sharp enough to be deadly if somebody fell on it with the right amount of force.</p><p>But in spite of the effort, still nothing showed up.</p><p>Luke lowered the bottle with a disappointed sigh.</p><p>“It was a decent idea,” Phoenix reassured him.</p><p>“An idea that didn’t pan out,” Luke pointed out. “Pretty hard to call it decent.”</p><p>He passed the bottle back to Phoenix.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” he said. “Do you think it’s possible the killer took the murder weapon with them when they left?”</p><p>“Maybe,” Phoenix said with a shrug. “We can’t assume every killing was spur-of-the-moment.”</p><p>He looked over at the doorway.</p><p>Was it possible the murder weapon could have been left somewhere other than the office? Was there even anything out there that a person could use?</p><p>It was worth a try, wasn’t it?</p><p>“Let’s check the foyer,” he suggested. “We might find something there.”</p><p>Luke all but ran out of the office. The poor boy really could <em>not</em> have been more eager to get away from this pool of diluted blood.</p><p>Phoenix followed him out and found him standing right in the front doorway, leaning against the frame and breathing heavily. It was a very familiar position, Phoenix considered; the sort of behaviour he himself adopted when he was unbearably nauseous and trying his hardest not to show it.</p><p>Best not to mention it. The last thing Luke needed was to feel guilty about his stomach.</p><p>Instead of being cruel enough to tell him to suck it up, Phoenix sprayed on the beams that held up the ceiling. The results were predictable. That is to say, non-existent.</p><p>He sprayed on the chairs and on the side table that separated them. Still there was nothing. Nor were there any loose objects in this room that could be used to bludgeon a person to death.</p><p>This was just getting ridiculous now.</p><p>“Whoa! Mr Wright!”</p><p>At Luke’s shout, Phoenix discovered that the boy was wide-eyed and staring at the floor, holding the glasses steady on his face.</p><p>“What?” Phoenix asked. “What is it?”</p><p>“There! On the floor!” Luke pointed at where he was staring. “Some of the luminol drifted down and it- look!”</p><p>Phoenix followed his gaze down to the ground.</p><p>There, indeed, was a faint blue glow where the loose droplets of luminol he’d sprayed had floated down to the floor.</p><p>He set his jaw and took a deep breath. This was <em>not</em> going to be pleasant.</p><p>He took aim and sprayed at the floor, covering as wide an area as he could. Wall to wall, right up to the door and under the chairs and the table and into the office doorway.</p><p>Except for the innermost corners of the foyer, a vast majority of the floor now radiated a brilliant blue glow. It lapped around the chair feet and the bottoms of the table legs and had trickled along the bottom lip of the door to Ms Skellig’s office.</p><p>And as far as Phoenix knew, there was only one specific liquid that reacted with a colour like this one.</p><p>He suddenly understood exactly what Luke was feeling.</p><p>“…oh god…” Luke choked.</p><p>“Oh god is right,” Phoenix said. His knees suddenly felt incredibly weak. “That’s a big one. Looks like it got cleaned up pretty well, but that’s- that much blood? Nobody’s surviving that. <em>Nobody</em>.”</p><p>“And we were…” Luke clutched a hand to his mouth, eyes wider and more horrified than ever. “We <em>walked</em> on that… just stepped over it and…”</p><p>He ripped the front door open and dashed outside.</p><p>“Luke?!” Phoenix shouted in shock.</p><p>From outside, carried on a gentle breeze that blew into the foyer, there came the sound of agonised retching and liquid splattering onto snow.</p><p>Phoenix walked over to the open door, trying not to think about just <em>what</em> he was walking on, and he peered around to get a look at his assistant. Luke was on his knees, bent double in the snow beside the top step, one hand on his stomach and the other on his face.</p><p>“Luke?” Phoenix’s heart ached at the sight. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Luke didn’t look back at him.</p><p>“…I don’t think so…” he said weakly.</p><p>His hand flew from his face to the snow as he clutched his stomach tighter and retched even more painfully than he had before. Phoenix cringed at the sight, sound and smell of half-digested breakfast splashing onto the ground.</p><p>If the Professor found out about this, he really <em>would</em> be a murderer and Phoenix would be his victim. He couldn’t even offer this poor kid a glass of water because a) this wasn’t their house and b) he didn’t want to use a <em>murder victim’s</em> drinking glasses.</p><p>There really wasn’t anything he could do, was there?</p><p>He had to look away before he ended up getting sick as well.</p><p>“Bury it in the snow when you’re done, okay?” was all he could think of to say.</p><p>“…okay…” Luke struggled to say.</p><p>Phoenix looked away right as Luke retched again.</p><p>He pressed himself to the wall and walked on tiptoe back into the office, where only <em>part</em> of the floor was covered in blood.</p><p>Yes, this blood was just as real as the stuff out in the foyer had been, but somehow it felt better to know that he wasn’t forced to stand either on or in it.</p><p>Maybe it would be better to put the luminol away now that he knew that the only blood in this house was on the floor, and that their murder weapon didn’t seem to be here. Not only that, but if Luke was handling the sight of all this blood <em>that</em> badly, the best thing to do would be to STOP drawing attention to it.</p><p>Well, at least this gave him a chance to figure out what was wrong with this puddle without the threat of a queasy teenager looming over his head.</p><p>He squatted in front of the puddle and lifted up the luminol shades to balance on his head, and he was halfway to reaching for that puddle when his brain screamed “<em>no that’s still wet</em>” and he pulled his finger back.</p><p><em>That</em> could have been disastrous.</p><p>Still, it was obvious this blood was mixed with <em>something</em>. Something that had kept it from drying in the time between Ms Skellig’s death and not just the discovery of her body, but now. It must have been over twelve hours by now, right?</p><p>Or from freezing. Or was it not cold enough for that? Cold enough to keep the ice from melting but not to let fresh ice form? Was that possible?</p><p>But <em>why</em> would the blood be mixed with something?</p><p>“Hmm…” Crap, <em>why</em> was it so difficult to resist the urge to dip his finger in this?</p><p>Behind him, he heard the faint sound of slow, gentle footsteps.</p><p>“Mr Wright?”</p><p>He looked back over his shoulder and found Luke still pressing a hand to his stomach, and the back of his gloved hand to his mouth. His eyes were watery and his face was deathly pale.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Phoenix asked, even though it was obvious this poor boy was <em>not</em>.</p><p>“I, um…” Luke cleared his throat. “I think I got most of it out of my system. What are you doing?”</p><p>Phoenix rested himself on one knee. The last thing he wanted was to risk falling in this puddle again, especially since this kid was already sick.</p><p>“I was just taking a closer look at this,” he explained. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pool of blood like this one before.”</p><p>Luke gagged and pressed his hand tighter over his mouth.</p><p>“Sorry,” Phoenix said quickly. “Are you sure you don’t want to head back to the cottage? I could handle this by myself if you like.”</p><p>“I’ll…” Luke choked back a belch. “I’ll be okay… I think…”</p><p>Even when this kid was literally sick to his stomach, he was still determined to be helpful. Phoenix’s heart ached even harder.</p><p>“If you say so,” he decided. “I’m going to have to talk about blood for a while. Let me know if you want me to stop.”</p><p>Luke nodded. Slow, very weak, but he nodded. Phoenix had to hold himself back from picking this boy up, slinging him over his shoulder and forcibly carrying him all the way to Dr Wallace’s clinic for an anti-nausea med and a good long nap.</p><p>He looked back at the puddle. Talking through the problem tended to help him solve it.</p><p>“I’m sure you’ve heard that old saying that blood is thicker than water?” he asked. “It’s not the full saying and I won’t get into the semantics right now, but it’s a fact. Blood is thick. Thick enough that when it pools like this, it’s opaque.”</p><p>He turned to Luke to check that he was okay. To his relief, the boy was not only focused, but frowning instead of gagging.</p><p>“But that blood isn’t,” he pointed out. “I can see the tiles underneath. It’s <em>thin</em>.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Phoenix said. “And from what I saw in that photo, it was the same when Dr Wallace showed up. Meaning that while Ms Skellig was bleeding out, something caused her blood to get watered down.”</p><p>Luke cleared his no doubt roughed-up throat.</p><p>“Do you think it’s possible the killer tried to clean up?” he asked.</p><p>“Maybe,” Phoenix said. “If you find a mop and bucket, let me know. A spritz of luminol will help us figure it out. Although that would raise the question of why the killer tried to clean up the blood while their victim’s body was still lying in it.”</p><p>“…okay…” was Luke’s weak reply.</p><p>Perhaps it would be a good idea to move onto something else. Phoenix got to his feet and straightened his scrunched-up jacket.</p><p>“So we’ve got a crime scene and a victim,” he said, mostly to himself, “but no real suspect unless you count dead people. Which I, personally, do <em>not</em> if there’re no spirit mediums involved.”</p><p>He cast his eyes back at Luke, hoping he’d pulled himself together enough to share his thoughts. Luke, for his part, straightened his cap and tried to flatten his messy hair.</p><p>“I know I’m new to the idea of ghosts being a thing,” he told Phoenix. “It was rather a shock to see them all walking around a couple of nights ago and I dread to think how many I ran through on our way to and from the mountain last night…”</p><p>He looked up at Phoenix. His eyes were dry by now, but noticeably reddened.</p><p>“…but can a spirit become corporeal enough to lift something?” he asked. “Let alone manoeuvre it enough to bludgeon a person to death with it!”</p><p>“Couldn’t say,” Phoenix admitted, “but with everything that got knocked off that mantle, I think it’s safe to say Ms Skellig was taken by surprise. There was a fight before she went down. Here’s hoping she got a scratch on her killer that’d help us identify them.”</p><p>“O-oh! Mr Wright!” Luke suddenly lit up like a firework. “That bag of forensic things! Was there any fingerprinting powder in there?”</p><p>Phoenix picked up the bag he’d dropped on the floor when they had entered the foyer.</p><p>“Hang on,” he said as he opened it, “let me- yes, there is!”</p><p>From within the thin plastic depths, he produced a little jar of white powder that had a small brush, similar to those he’d seen used for foundation, taped to its side. Looking back in the bag, there was a small plastic box that looked like it could be a game console, but the only game Phoenix knew it would play was Forensic Investigations.</p><p>And now, as he took it out, he wanted to punch himself for thinking something so lame.</p><p>“And I’m going to hazard a guess and say this little device here catalogues the fingerprints of everyone in the village,” he told Luke. “<em>This</em> is going to be helpful. Good call.”</p><p>Luke tugged on his scarf with a bashful little giggle.</p><p>“Now all we need to do is figure out where to start,” he said.</p><p>“Places people are <em>bound</em> to leave fingerprints would be a safe bet,” Phoenix pointed out. “The doctor was wearing gloves, right?”</p><p>“Um…” Luke’s gaze wandered upward as he tried to remember. “…yes, he was.”</p><p>Phoenix looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers.</p><p>“And we are too,” he said gratefully. “Good. Let’s check the door first. If we don’t find anything there, we can try the window.”</p><p>“But Mr Wright!” Luke spoke up as Phoenix was halfway to the door. “If the mayor wanted to keep a temperature in her house, she wouldn’t open her windows, would she? And look!” He pointed at the prison-like window. “They aren’t broken! None of them are broken!”</p><p>Phoenix hesitated.</p><p>That was a <em>very</em> good point. So the window wouldn’t have been opened and it wasn’t broken, so nobody got in that way and they didn’t need to bother checking it.</p><p>This kid, save for his apparent hemophobia, was a <em>natural</em>.</p><p>“Luke,” he said, “have you ever seriously thought about a career as a lawyer?”</p><p>Now it was Luke who was hesitating. The colour slowly seeped back into his cheeks in the form of a nervous flush.</p><p>“I haven’t,” he said quietly, “but… in the past few days, it’s been…”</p><p>His fingers idly fiddled with his coat’s toggle. He didn’t even seem to realise he was doing it.</p><p>“I’ll be honest, Mr Wright,” he said. “Aside from dealing with massive pools of blood and our awful loss yesterday, it’s really been quite fun!”</p><p>“Well, don’t dismiss the idea after we leave here, alright?” Phoenix told him with a smile. “It seems like you’ve really got a knack for it. If the Wright Talent Agency ever becomes a law firm again, it’d be great to welcome you on board.”</p><p>Luke laughed again, fingers curling around his toggle.</p><p>Please retain that sweetness, Phoenix thought to himself. Please try to stay kind as you get older. Please, <em>please</em> try to keep yourself as friendly and happy as you are right now.</p><p>
  <em>Please don’t let yourself become like me.</em>
</p><p>And thank goodness he couldn’t read minds or else he would probably be rather concerned about what was going through Phoenix’s head.</p><p>“Right,” Phoenix said to shake himself out of his thoughts, and he swung the door towards them so that they wouldn’t have to step in that massive pool of cleaned-up-but-luminol-illuminated blood. “The handle seems the most obvious, so…”</p><p>After screwing off the lid, he dipped the attached brush into the little jar of white powder and brushed it all over the doorknob, making sure to get as even a coating as he could. He held the jar underneath to catch any excess that fell off, and as Luke slowly approached, at least two distinct prints became clear under the powder.</p><p>Looking closer, they were two completely different prints. Two separate people.</p><p>“Wow!” gasped Luke. “It worked!”</p><p>“And if we cross-reference against this database…” Phoenix held up the little gadget to the highlighted prints and waited for its analysis to process.</p><p>The first result was Angela Skellig. Made sense. This was her office, after all. Of <em>course</em> she would have touched the handle at some point.</p><p>And the second one…</p><p>“…crap,” Phoenix muttered.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Luke asked.</p><p>“These prints,” said Phoenix. “They’re the Skelligs. Angela and Michaela Skellig.”</p><p>He lowered the identifier so that Michaela’s smug smirking face didn’t consume his vision.</p><p>“Well, that’s not very helpful!” Luke complained. “Of course their prints would be in this place, they LIVED here! Unless…” He suddenly stared at Phoenix in horror. “Mr Wright, do you think Ms Michaela could have-”</p><p>“Not likely.” Phoenix cut him off before he could finish that thought. “You weren’t here to listen to these two a couple of days ago, but Ms Skellig and her daughter <em>adored </em>each other. Neither could mention the other without talking them up like they were introducing them at an awards ceremony.”</p><p>He closed the jar of printing powder and slipped it and the identifier back into the bag.</p><p>“Unless that was all some <em>extremely</em> convincing act, I don’t think Michaela’s our killer,” he explained.</p><p>And it wasn’t just Michaela, he considered. Judging by the way she had been treated by the court, the Skelligs were not only adored by each other, but by this entire village.</p><p>Why would somebody have wanted one of them dead?</p><p>“Oh no,” Luke said, “and that brings up another point, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Phoenix nodded.</p><p>“Motive,” he replied. “Who in this village other than Edgeworth – who was not only with us but unconscious during the TOD – would want to kill the mayor?”</p><p>Luke swallowed, curling a finger around the lip of his scarf.</p><p>“An angry spirit?” he suggested.</p><p>The idea of it was ridiculous, but the more time went by, the more it seemed like the only option that Phoenix had left to consider.</p><p>“…maybe,” he said softly. “Let’s have a look around the office again. We might find something that’ll spell out a motive.”</p><p>With another nervous gulp, Luke nodded and spun on his heels to face the half-empty mantlepiece.</p><p>Phoenix heaved a sigh as he straightened up. It was frustrating that Ms Skellig had been so sparse and minimalist with her decorating. Even a generic still-life painting of the kind bought from a thrift store would have given him something to look behind. This woman just had <em>nothing</em>.</p><p>He found himself longing to return to the mess that had become the Wright Talent Agency. Trucy’s wands scattered everywhere, half of them broken, a levitation sheet draped over the couch in place of a throw blanket, half-empty pots of wood polish dotted all over the room like greasy landmines, the watch-smashing table holding a false-bottomed hat that Phoenix had learned was used for the producing of rabbits, doves and whatever else could fit in there…</p><p>Just the thought of it was making him wish he could end this vacation right now.</p><p>Later, he told himself. Just one more week and a half and he and his darling baby girl could return to their precious, messy home. Maybe they could mess it up a bit more when they got back, just to see the look on Edgeworth’s face the next time he dropped in.</p><p>Well, for now, he had a job to do.</p><p>For completeness’ sake, he donned the luminol shades and sprayed a layer across the backs of the chairs that were sat in front of Ms Skellig’s desk, but neither of them showed any residue. Nobody had slipped and hit their head on either.</p><p>Phoenix let out a soft groan of annoyance as he took off the glasses.</p><p>“I’m a little sad Ms Skellig won’t be able to make any more of these,” said Luke, who was still examining the few statues left on the mantlepiece. “Have you seen these sculptures, Mr Wright? They’re so intricate and detailed!”</p><p>“Yeah, I had a look a couple of days ago,” Phoenix replied. “Pretty impressive, huh?”</p><p>A glint of something metallic drew his attention behind their victim’s desk and there, on the floor beside her chair, sat a coin. Silver edged with gold, just like the one Trucy had picked up on the King’s Arms’ doorstep.</p><p>For no reason in particular, Phoenix slipped it into his pocket.</p><p>It wasn’t like Ms Skellig was going to use it, after all.</p><p>As he was preparing to get up, he noticed something else shining in the corner of his eye. Something of a duller, more textured shine. Looking up, he saw that it was the safe he had noticed the first time he was in this office, and from this angle, he could see the number pad that served as its method of entry.</p><p>He shuffled closer to get a better look and pushed the late Ms Skellig’s chair aside so that he had room.</p><p>“…huh,” he found himself saying.</p><p>“What is it?” Luke tiptoed around the watered-down puddle to see what Phoenix was looking at. “A safe?”</p><p>Phoenix tapped a gloved fingertip on the code display screen, which blinked into illumination as if sensing his presence.</p><p>Maybe <em>this</em> was the motive they had been looking for.</p><p>“What do you think, Luke?” he asked. “Is it possible our killer might’ve been after something in here?”</p><p>“I guess it might be…”</p><p>The response was thoughtful, but Luke froze and fixed Phoenix with an angry glare.</p><p>“Mr Wright, are you just looking for excuses to break into this safe?” he demanded.</p><p>“What? No!” Phoenix cried.</p><p>He glanced back at the tempting sheen on the number pad’s plastic buttons.</p><p>“…not entirely, at least,” he added.</p><p>“You’re unbelievable,” Luke sighed, but he squatted on the floor beside Phoenix nonetheless to get a better look at the safe’s mechanism. “Okay, so it’s an electronic lock. Looks like we’ll need a seven-digit code if we want to get in. Any ideas, Mr Wright?”</p><p>“A couple,” Phoenix lied. “Do we know either of the Skellig’s birthdays?”</p><p>“Mr Wright, I don’t even know how old they are!”</p><p>“Okay, okay!”</p><p>Phoenix looked back at the safe’s door. If only he could have Trucy with him to work her lock-picking magic.</p><p>In the corner of his vision, he saw the little white plastic bag.</p><p>Hmm…</p><p>He reached in and withdrew the jar.</p><p>“I wonder…” he thought aloud.</p><p>“The fingerprinting powder!” Luke gasped. “Great idea! We can see which keys we need to press to-”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it!” Phoenix unscrewed the jar, dipped in the brush and gently dabbed the keypad with the fine white powder.</p><p>Five keys gave him a response.</p><p>1, 2, 6, 8, 9.</p><p>No need to identify the fingerprints. He already knew whose they were.</p><p>“…okay,” he muttered.</p><p>“Hmm, a seven-digit code using five numbers,” Luke pondered as Phoenix put the powder and brush away again. “I’m guessing at least one is repeated.”</p><p>Phoenix stroked his chin as he stared at the marked keys. They were <em>begging</em> him to deduce their order and meaning.</p><p>“I think I might’ve been onto something with the birthday idea,” he considered. “Or at least, the idea of it being a day, month and year would fit into a total of seven digits. Do you think it’s possible our code might be a date?”</p><p>Luke hummed in thought again.</p><p>“That makes the most sense,” he agreed. “I know that whenever I need a four-digit code for something to do with security, I always use my birth year.”</p><p>Phoenix eyed the boy with amusement.</p><p>“Do you now?” he asked.</p><p>“Oh no, why did I tell you that?!” Luke slapped his hands over his face.</p><p>“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Phoenix tried not to laugh, since he knew it would only make the kid more upset. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear!”</p><p>He looked at the number pad again. It stared mockingly into his soul.</p><p>If the code was a date, then there had to be some means of checking what the current date was somewhere in this office, right?</p><p>“I wonder if the mayor had a calendar?” he pondered. “Want to check the desk drawers?”</p><p>“What?” Luke stared at the drawers right beside him. “Oh god, I… I don’t know.”</p><p>“Hey, it’s not like she’s going to be able to care,” Phoenix pointed out.</p><p>“Mr Wright, this village is haunted, remember?” Luke said angrily. “If Ms Skellig comes back as a ghost, it’ll be so, <em>so</em> easy for her to care!”</p><p>Phoenix tried not to perish the thought. Angela’s behaviour had been unsettling enough <em>without</em> her literally returning from the dead.</p><p>“Good point,” he decided. “We’ll have to make it quick then.” He turned his gaze upwards as he pressed himself up to his feet, leaning on the desk for support. “Ms Skellig, if you’re listening, I’m only trying to help. I want to know what happened to you and this is the fastest way to get information on your death.”</p><p>He leaned over Luke and opened the top drawer. All it contained was a neat stack of manila files.</p><p>“This is wrong…” Luke mumbled as Phoenix closed that drawer and tried the second one down. “…this is <em>so</em> wrong…”</p><p>In the second drawer, Phoenix found a small, thin book bound in silver pleather, the year embossed in black on its front.</p><p>“Oh hey, a diary!” He pulled it out and shut the drawer.</p><p>“Mr Wright! Don’t you dare!” Luke shouted in abject horror.</p><p>“Oh, relax,” Phoenix told him. “It’s not a <em>personal</em> diary.”</p><p>He held up the book so that Luke could see what kind it was.</p><p>“See?” he said. “It’s just one of those little planner book things. I’m not about to learn whatever deep dark secrets this lady was trying to keep.” He opened at a silver ribbon that had been hung between the pages. “I’m just going to flick through and see if there are any dates highlighted, okay?”</p><p>Luke seemed to look anywhere but at his face.</p><p>“…okay, well…” he said uncomfortably. “…make sure they have the appropriate numbers…”</p><p>He rocked back on his feet and fell onto the floor, folding his legs to sit comfortably on the freezing cold tiles, and leaned his head onto his hands.</p><p>Phoenix swallowed. He didn’t like the sight of that. The only thing that would upset Layton more than his apprentice being physically sick would be him returning to the cottage in a state of psychological upheaval.</p><p>“Something on your mind?” Phoenix decided to ask.</p><p>Luke pressed his fingers to one of his temples.</p><p>“A lot, Mr Wright,” he said bluntly. “A <em>lot</em> is on my mind, but if you want to get more specific…”</p><p>He took a deep breath.</p><p>“Of the five numbers we picked up prints from,” he said, holding up his finger in a very Laytonesque manner, “none of them were 0. If we <em>are</em> after a date, then it’ll be before the turn of the century. Every year from 2000 until now has had at least one 0 in it, so that rules them out. We need a date from 1999 or prior. E-except the decade years, I guess, like 1990 and 1980 and… you know.”</p><p>Phoenix continued flicking through the diary. He hadn’t seen any dates with writing noted in them yet, but he wasn’t going to quit until he hit the end of the year.</p><p>“You may be right,” he said idly. “I’m not seeing anything…”</p><p>Wait, what was that?”</p><p>“…no, hang on.”</p><p>There had been writing on one of the pages he had just passed. He flipped back to find it again and there it was, nestled in the last week of August.</p><p>“What is it?” asked Luke.</p><p>“I think I’ve found our date,” Phoenix reported. “Well, maybe. As far as I can tell, there are five possibilities for what it could be.”</p><p>He dropped to one knee beside Luke so that his assistant could better see inside the book.</p><p>“What makes you say that?” Luke got up onto his knees to take a look.</p><p>“Here, look at this.” Phoenix tapped on the page, highlighting the writing he wanted the boy to pay attention to. “August 26<sup>th</sup>. Michaela’s birthday.”</p><p>Luke looked from the date to Phoenix’s face and back again. If he was going to be honest, Phoenix couldn’t blame him for his scepticism. He hadn’t been here to witness Ms Skellig gushing over her wonderful and talented daughter, after all.</p><p>“You think Ms Skellig set her daughter’s birthday for the code?” he asked. “That, um, that’s oddly sweet.”</p><p>“August 26<sup>th</sup>,” Phoenix said again, drumming the date into his mind. “826. That gives us part of it. Do you think it’s worth a shot?”</p><p>“No, Mr Wright, wait!”</p><p>Phoenix froze with his hand halfway towards the safe.</p><p>“The UK does things the other way around, remember?” said Luke. “You’ll have to put in 268 instead!”</p><p>Oh. Oh, thank <em>god</em> he’d mentioned that now rather than after a round of failures.</p><p>“Right.” Phoenix nodded. “Good call. Thanks.”</p><p>He sat on the floor to make himself more comfortable. The last thing he needed was to make his knees or ankles sore while trying to concentrate on figuring out the code.</p><p>“Here’s hoping this thing allows an unlimited number of attempts,” he thought aloud, “or at the very least, five of them.”</p><p>“What if they all fail?”</p><p>“…then I guess it’s time to learn how to crack a safe.”</p><p>He glanced down at the diary again.</p><p>If the code was Michaela’s birthday, then that fitted Luke’s hypothesis of the year being prior to 2000. Michaela seemed relatively close in age to Phoenix, perhaps a little younger, so her birth year would most likely be within the 1990s.</p><p>She was older than Luke at least, wasn’t she?</p><p>Perhaps it would be safest to work backwards. Start at the most recent year and go back further and further until he got the right date.</p><p>So he entered his first option: 2681999. 26<sup>th</sup> of August 1999.</p><p>A bleep. The blink of a red light.</p><p>Failure.</p><p>Okay, that was one option ruled out. Ms Skellig was definitely old enough to legally drink in America, it seemed. Phoenix typed in the next number in the sequence: 2681998.</p><p>Another bleep and red light. Another failure.</p><p>“Are you sure you can handle this, Mr Wright?” asked Luke.</p><p>“Yes, of course!” Phoenix replied.</p><p>He tried the next number along. 2681996.</p><p>The bleep and red light told him this was a failure too.</p><p>“…at least, I <em>think</em> I can,” Phoenix added bashfully.</p><p>He typed in the next number. By the time he had finished entering 2681992, the fingerprinting powder was starting to wear away and stick to his gloves.</p><p>The resulting bleep and red light showed that he needed at least one more try.</p><p>Phoenix swallowed. He didn’t know how many more tries this thing would allow.</p><p>He typed in the fifth code he could think of. 2681991.</p><p><em>Bloop</em>.</p><p>There was a click and the safe door cracked open.</p><p>“Yes!” Phoenix cheered.</p><p>“Oh, thank goodness!” Luke sighed. “I was so worried it wasn’t going to work!”</p><p>“Trust me,” Phoenix responded, “so was I.”</p><p>He took a deep breath and reached for the safe’s door.</p><p>“Wait,” said Luke, causing Phoenix to pause. “Ms Michaela was born in 1991?”</p><p>Phoenix just shrugged.</p><p>“Seems that way,” he commented.</p><p>Luke’s eyes widened in either awe or horror.</p><p>“She’s <em>thirty</em> years old?!” he exclaimed.</p><p>“Twenty-nine,” Phoenix corrected, significantly more successful in hiding his surprise that Michaela was, in fact, <em>older </em>than him. “We’re still in January, remember? I guess she moisturises a lot. In any case, let’s see what her mom was keeping in this safe of hers.”</p><p>The desk and the wall between where they were and the window behind them cast a dark shadow across the inside of the safe, so Phoenix leaned aside to let the daylight in and peered around the side of the door.</p><p>He wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting when he opened this thing up. A safety deposit box? A gun? Piles upon piles of gold coins, jewels and colourful English bank notes?</p><p>But inside this safe, there was a single sheet of paper, a worn book that looked like it might be a journal, a small cardboard box that seemed to be some kind of medication, an odd sort of thin dark stick, and what was unmistakably a set of binoculars.</p><p>Rather than riches, it looked like all this safe had contained was secrets.</p><p>“Dang.” Phoenix whistled in appreciation. “Quite the treasure trove we’ve got here.”</p><p>“Let me see,” said Luke, and he shuffled closer to get a better look.</p><p>When he saw inside the safe, he froze. The poor kid looked like every muscle in his body had tensed up.</p><p>“…those are binoculars,” he said faintly. “What did she need binoculars for?”</p><p>The realisation hit Phoenix like a train. He was suddenly gripped by an urgent need to find a sink and wash his hands. Right up to the elbows, as thoroughly as he possibly could, like he was about to perform heart surgery.</p><p>No, scratch that. A shower. He needed one serious hot <em>shower</em>.</p><p>“You’re the puzzle guy,” he said, hoping Luke wouldn’t notice his discomfort. “She lives up on a hill. Do the math.”</p><p>Luke swallowed hard. He looked as though he was about to start gagging again.</p><p>“Oh <em>god</em>,” he gasped.</p><p>“Much as I’d like to hope she was a stargazer,” Phoenix said grimly, “the way she acted towards me and the Professor when we met her has me doubting it.”</p><p>“Oh no, I…” Luke clutched his coat tight around his chest. “I-I don’t know how, but somehow I feel even more dirty now than when I did when you pulled that diary out!”</p><p>“I haven’t even been staying in a house!” Phoenix pointed out. “How do you think <em>I </em>feel?”</p><p>The idea of someone, anyone, peering down into the room he’d been staying in while he was changing in and out of his pyjamas or, god forbid, when <em>Trucy</em> was getting changed was making him sick to his stomach.</p><p>“…that reminds me,” he said, trying to take his mind off that disgusting idea, “I’d better go to the King’s Arms and pick up our luggage when we’re done here.”</p><p>Luke cleared his throat. No doubt he was still sore from the results of his earlier nausea.</p><p>“What’s this?” He reached into the safe and took out the dark-coloured stick. “This rod thing?”</p><p>Curious, Phoenix slowly took it from Luke’s fingers. The rod tapered to a point – a remarkably sharp point now that he was getting a closer look – and was a dark shade of reddish-brown. It had a handle carved from polished wood and somehow felt rather solid in his hand.</p><p>“Whoa,” he muttered. “I haven’t seen one of these in years! It’s an awl!”</p><p>“An all?” Luke frowned at him in confusion. “All of what?”</p><p>“No, with a W,” Phoenix corrected. “Awl. It’s a sculpting thing. Must be one of her tools.” He turned it over in his hands, careful not to prick his finger. “Things like these are used for the really small, fine details and for punching holes.”</p><p>He held it up to the light so he could get a better look at the discolouration on the blade.</p><p>“I wonder why she’d keep it if it’d got this rusty?” he wondered aloud.</p><p>“Rusty?” said Luke.</p><p>“Yeah, look at it!” Phoenix rubbed his thumb over the blade, brushing off dried flakes of red-brown. “I didn’t major in sculpting when I was in college, but something this old would be thrown out!”</p><p>“Mr Wright, look at its tip.” Luke pointed at the end of the blade. “It’s still needle-sharp.”</p><p>Phoenix obediently examined that tip, resisting the urge to press his finger against it and check how sharp it really was.</p><p>The awl did, as he had earlier noted, taper to a <em>very</em> sharp point.</p><p>And now that he was looking closer, the ‘rust’ seemed not only uneven, but far too dark for metal of the sort an awl was typically made of.</p><p>“…so it is.” A sinking feeling twisted his gut.</p><p>“I don’t think the discolouration is from rust…” Luke said softly, and he swallowed like he had just thrown up in his mouth. “You remember yesterday’s trial, don’t you? Dr Wallace said the murder weapon was something long and thin, like a large needle…”</p><p>Shock and disgust flooded through Phoenix’s mind as the pieces slotted into place.</p><p>“Holy shi-” He threw the awl down and scrambled away from it until he hit the wall.</p><p>Every hair on his body was standing on end. Here he had been, searching for reasons why somebody might have wanted to kill Angela Skellig, but why would this thing be here if she hadn’t used it to kill someone herself?!</p><p>Hot bile rose in his throat, but he forced it back down.</p><p>“…do you…” Luke spoke softly and numbly, staring at the awl with eyes wide and horrified. “…shall we spray it to make sure-”</p><p>“No,” Phoenix cut him off. “No, I can see it pretty clearly now. That isn’t rust. That is <em>not</em> rust. Tha-that’s… that’s blood. Dried blood. Lots and <em>lots</em> of dried blood.”</p><p>The smell of oxidising iron hit him in the face all at once and he pressed the back of his hand to his nose, disgusted by the idea that he might be breathing in particles of a <em>dead man’s blood</em>.</p><p>For rather understandable reasons, Luke gagged and slapped a hand over his mouth.</p><p>“Hurry outside if you’re going to puke again,” Phoenix spat, unable to tear his eyes away from the murder weapon.</p><p>“I, um…” Luke cleared his throat again. “I-I think I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Phoenix forced himself forward, leaning on one knee while trying to give the awl as wide a berth as he could get away with.</p><p>“I hate to say it,” he said, “but I think I know where that huge bloodstain in Ms Skellig’s foyer came from. Hang on, um…” He snatched up the bag of forensic equipment. “D-Dr Wallace gave us- I think I saw evidence bags in here.”</p><p>Indeed, a sheath of clear plastic baggies sat pressed against the side of the bag, and Phoenix pulled one out and turned it inside out so he didn’t have to risk touching the blood again.</p><p>“Mr Wright?” Luke said nervously as Phoenix picked up the awl. “What would the murder weapon that killed Mr Oldfart be doing in Ms Skellig’s safe?”</p><p>Phoenix inverted the bag around the awl and pressed out as much air as he could before zipping it shut.</p><p>“Who knows?” he asked as casually as he could manage. “Maybe the killer brought it to her in the hopes she could hide it.”</p><p>“But then what’s that massive bloodstain doing in her front room?!” cried Luke.</p><p>“I know, I know!” snapped Phoenix, and he slapped the bagged awl onto the desk above. “I don’t want to believe it, alright? I don’t want to think about how the Professor and I sat down and had a casual conversation with an actual honest-to-god <em>murderer!</em>”</p><p>The hand Luke had clapped to his mouth earlier was trembling.</p><p>“And I met her on the doorstep!” he choked. “You might not remember; you were still drowsy from the muscle relaxant Dr Wallace gave you-”</p><p>“-and by that point, she had already killed someone,” said Phoenix, and he checked his gloved fingers to see if the blood had left a stain. “Right here in this house. With her own goddamn sculpting tool.”</p><p>He heard Luke’s stomach emit a loud, threatening gurgle.</p><p>“I…” Luke said weakly. “…I think I’m going to be sick again…”</p><p>“Do you want to go back to the cottage?” Phoenix asked. “I won’t blame you if you want a lie down.”</p><p>Luke gulped hard. It wouldn’t be surprising if he <em>had</em> thrown up in his mouth.</p><p>“I think I can hold on,” he replied. “My stomach’s pretty empty by now.”</p><p>“Well, here. Look.” Phoenix briefly lifted up the bagged awl for Luke to see. “It’s bagged. No reason to touch it anymore. Let’s have a look at what else is in here.”</p><p>He shifted back to kneel in front of the safe and took out the little cardboard box, and held it in the light so that he could read what was printed on its laminated surface.</p><p>It looked like this was a box for pills of the sort that would be prescribed, but what the hell did <em>that</em> say?</p><p>“Car-ba… maze-pine?” Phoenix tried. “Car-ba-ma-ze-pine? Carbamazepine, I think that’s it.”</p><p>He held the box out to Luke so that he could read it.</p><p>“Any idea what that is?”</p><p>Luke simply shook his head, and Phoenix slipped the box onto the desk beside the bagged awl.</p><p>“Looks like we’re paying another visit to the doctor later,” he said, and he took the sheet of paper out of the safe. “And this…”</p><p>As he read down the paper, another wave of dawning horror – what had to be the third one that morning – washed over his body. He had to listen hard for the sound of his own heart to make sure it was still beating.</p><p>“…oh my god,” he muttered. “Luke, take a look at this.”</p><p>He pressed the paper into Luke’s hands, and the boy’s wide dark eyes tracked down the printed details at a rapid pace.</p><p>“A prescription?” he quickly realised. “From Dr Wallace… to Wrenkley Oldfart… for 400mg of ibuprofen.”</p><p>Phoenix nodded grimly.</p><p>“If I didn’t know any better,” he said, “I’d say the number of motives for our victim’s murder is getting larger and larger by the second.”</p><p>Luke held the prescription right up to his eyes.</p><p>“And the spacing of the lettering is all even, so…” He looked up at Phoenix in obvious alarm. “So this is the original? This is the real prescription? It’s been right here this entire time?!”</p><p>“Seems that way,” replied Phoenix.</p><p>“But why would she keep it?” Luke asked as he slipped the prescription onto the desk. “She’s got a fireplace right here! Surely something like this is far too dangerous to just hang onto!”</p><p>“You’ve got me there,” Phoenix sighed. “Blackmail, do you think? Keeping the citizens in line by threatening to reveal their dirty little secrets?”</p><p>Once again, every last drop of colour drained from Luke’s face.</p><p>“She forged the prescription,” he said softly. “<em>She</em> was the one who wanted to set up Dr Wallace… but <em>why?!</em>”</p><p>Maybe it would be a good idea to try to distract him.</p><p>“Mr and Mrs Oldfart said they were sworn to silence in the name of the Painted King,” Phoenix recalled. “I think I have a pretty good idea who it was that made them swear it.”</p><p>Luke's stomach gurgled again.</p><p>Before Phoenix had a chance to react, the boy leaped to his feet and pelted out of the room.</p><p>“Luke!” Phoenix clambered up from behind the desk. “Luke, hang on a sec!”</p><p>He ran out of the office to the still-open front door, which swung with a faint creak on its hinges as a biting breeze blew into the foyer.</p><p>Looking around, Phoenix found Luke outside again, hunched over and gagging as he had been before, both arms clutching his stomach this time.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>Luke hugged his abdomen tighter and coughed.</p><p>“…I’ll be fine…” he groaned shakily.</p><p>The situation was awful, but that response almost made Phoenix laugh.</p><p>“You’re a pretty bad liar, you know that?” he told Luke.</p><p>The poor kid craned sideways to look over his shoulder.</p><p>“…sorry…” he croaked.</p><p>Phoenix’s heart ached again. He sounded so <em>weak</em>.</p><p>He shouldn’t have done this to begin with. Should have known better than to think a fifteen-year-old boy would be perfectly A-OK exploring a crime scene flooded with far more blood than either of them could have anticipated.</p><p>“If this investigation is really affecting you that much,” he said, “then go back to the cottage, alright? I know you want to help, but you’re in no state to continue this investigation for one more goddamn second and I’m not going to let you if you try.”</p><p>He stepped out into the snow and kneeled beside Luke to pat him on the shoulder.</p><p>“Go back,” he told him. “Have a drink of water and a lie down. I can take it by myself from here.”</p><p>Luke wiped a trail of spittle off his chin.</p><p>“Are you sure?” His voice sounded strained as though he had been screaming for hours on end.</p><p>Phoenix tried his hardest to give a reassuring smile, but it probably just ended up looking grim.</p><p>“I’ve investigated on my own plenty of times in the past,” he said as confidently as he could. “I think I’ll be able to do it again.”</p><p>He took Luke’s arm off his stomach and hooked it over his shoulder to help the boy to his feet.</p><p>“…if you say so,” Luke said.</p><p>He withdrew his arm and plunged his hands into his pockets.</p><p>“Do you need any help getting down the steps?” Phoenix asked.</p><p>“I think I can manage <em>that </em>much, Mr Wright,” said Luke. “You’re really sure you don’t mind me leaving?”</p><p>“Yes, I’m sure!” Phoenix insisted.</p><p>“Does your head feel okay?”</p><p>Phoenix couldn’t avoid another sigh.</p><p>“I told you, my head feels <em>fine</em>,” he said. “It’ll take more than a half-empty bottle of whatever that was to knock me down for good. You take it easy, alright?”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>“And swill your mouth out with some water. Maybe brush your teeth too. The stuff in your stomach is meant to <em>stay</em> in your stomach, so it isn’t all that good for your teeth.”</p><p>“I will, I will! I’m not Trucy, Mr Wright! I’m not your kid!”</p><p>Phoenix snorted in laughter.</p><p>“I know,” he said, “but the Professor would kill me if something bad happened to you, so for both our sakes, take care of yourself.”</p><p>With his hands still in his pockets, Luke mounted the stairs that led down to the village.</p><p>“I’ll see you later, Mr Wright,” he said over his shoulder. “Good luck.”</p><p>“Same to you,” said Phoenix. “Try to stay warm out there.”</p><p>After giving him one last nod, Luke crunched his way down the snow-covered steps.</p><p>Phoenix, meanwhile, stepped back into the house and closed the door behind him so that the wind didn’t freeze him where he stood.</p><p>He would probably be fine so long as he didn’t think about the residue he was standing on.</p><p>He walked back into the office and looked down at the puddle of blood that still sat, unfrozen, in the middle of the floor. He didn’t dare get close enough to check that it was still liquid.</p><p>His eyes wandered over to the mess of broken frames and fragments of ice that had been swept off the mantlepiece.</p><p>If they were to continue considering the idea that Ms Skellig had fought with her attacker prior to her death, then it suggested two things: either she had been talking with them and they had unexpectedly attacked, grabbing something at random, or they had sneaked up behind her and clocked her when she wasn’t looking.</p><p>Was there any point to considering the fact that the office had supposedly been locked from the inside?</p><p>No, maybe not. It was, after all, possible to lock a door prior to closing it. The killer could easily have turned the key and departed with nobody else being any the wiser.</p><p>Hmm, that ice…</p><p>It hadn’t given any reactions to the luminol, so it was doubtful any of them had been used as a blunt object, but Phoenix thought back to the sculptures he and Layton had seen during their first visit to this office. If enough force was used, one of those could easily kill a person, couldn’t it?</p><p>And with how cold Ms Skellig had kept her house, it was likely they wouldn’t shatter very easily.</p><p>Hoping that nobody else would walk in at that moment, Phoenix kneeled down beside the puddle and sniffed it.</p><p>All he got was the metallic scent of blood. No cleaning chemicals whatsoever. Since cleaning chemicals would be required to remove blood from any surface, it was safe to rule out the theory that the murderer had tried to mop up after themselves.</p><p>But then, what could…</p><p>He looked over at the broken ice again. The fragments were smoother than a shattered lump was probably supposed to be. In spite of Ms Skellig’s best efforts, her precious sculptures were melting.</p><p>Body heat alone was enough to melt ice, wasn’t it?</p><p>Phoenix ran through a scenario in his head, picturing himself as the killer. Perhaps he’d been sitting at Ms Skellig’s desk, discussing something with her, when anger overtook him and he felt like he had to make her pay for something she had done. She tried to fight him off, but he grabbed one of the ice sculptures from her mantlepiece and smashed it over her head. Upon realising what he had done, he locked the door from the inside before closing it and fled into the village.</p><p>That was a possibility, wasn’t it?</p><p>Definitely more likely than the idea of a person trying to clean up around a lifeless body.</p><p>But there were still some things that he felt as though he needed to learn more about. Was that awl really the tool that had killed Wrenkley Oldfart? Had Ms Skellig been the one to have arranged the false malpractice charges? What the hell was carbamazepine and why did she have a box of it in her safe?</p><p>The safe…</p><p>There had been one more item in there.</p><p>Phoenix jogged back over to it and took out the book that had been sitting towards the back.</p><p>It looked rather old. Certainly well used. Its fabric cover was fraying around the corners and its spine was partially exposed at the top. Looking at it from the side, a couple of its pages were wrinkled as though they had gotten wet and later been dried.</p><p>He opened it up to a random page and flicked through.</p><p>All of the pages were covered in small, neat cursive handwriting. As he turned the pages, not bothering to read any of them (because honestly, who has time to sit and read unfamiliar cursive these days?) he noticed that many of these pages were topped with numbers.</p><p>When he paused long enough to get a look at one of them, he saw it was a date.</p><p>And judging by that date, this book had been in use for at least twenty years.</p><p>Phoenix continued flipping, paying attention to the dates the pages bore as he moved past them, flipping his way back through time.</p><p>Twenty-three years.</p><p>Twenty-five years.</p><p>Twenty-eight years.</p><p>Thirty years.</p><p>Thirty-two years.</p><p>Thirty-five years.</p><p>And then, when he finally got to the book’s first page, Phoenix saw that the date at the top was one from thirty-eight and a half years ago.</p><p>Not only was this a diary – one of the more personal variety than he had found in the drawer – but it was, by the standards of diaries, <em>very</em> old.</p><p>And there, on the inside of the cover, was written a disclaimer:</p><p> </p><p><strong><em>PRIVATE</em></strong><br/>PROPERTY OF<br/>Angela Skellig</p><p> </p><p>Ms Skellig’s personal diary.</p><p>Perhaps it had been better that he didn’t read it.</p><p>Phoenix straightened up again and picked up the box of pills and the bag with the awl in it. The cops could come and collect the forensic equipment when they inevitably swung by to conduct their own half-hearted investigation.</p><p>Well, <em>maybe</em> it was going to be half-hearted. With the fact that this victim was their mayor, it was hard to guess how the Officers Poe were going to handle this.</p><p>Did they know about Edgeworth already?</p><p>It was obvious they knew about his presence in the village, but did they know the reason he was there was coercion? And with what Edgeworth had said about the ‘political implications’ did they know that Ms Skellig was, more than likely, the one responsible for that coercion?</p><p>As Phoenix idly slipped his hand into his pocket, trying to keep a clear head, his finger ran over the smooth surface of his magatama.</p><p>Speaking of knowing and not knowing who was responsible for things…</p><p>Phoenix pocketed the bag and the pill box and slipped the journal into his jacket for safekeeping, and tiptoed around the blood to make his way out of the crime scene and down to the King’s Arms.</p><p>He had unfinished business with the woman who ran it.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Bloodstained House part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Good morning, Ms Hill.”</p>
<p>When Jack looked up from wiping down her bar, she gave Phoenix the dirtiest look he had ever seen outside his former clients or colleagues.</p>
<p>“Oh,” she said unenthusiastically. “Hello.”</p>
<p>“Oof.” Phoenix cringed as he closed the door behind him and shut out the biting breeze. “<em>That’s</em> a loaded greeting. You’re mad at me?”</p>
<p>Jack didn’t reply, only scowling as she furiously battled with a tea stain on her bar.</p>
<p>“Can’t say I blame you,” Phoenix continued as he approached her bar and passed the empty chairs and tables. “I’d be mad at me too if I was in your situation.”</p>
<p>“Here to check out of your room?” Jack asked without looking up from her bar.</p>
<p>“Yeah, more or less,” said Phoenix as he took a seat on one of the stools. “Trucy and I can’t leave until the bus swings by, and that won’t be until the day after tomorrow, but it looks like it’ll be better to hang around the Professor’s cottage with Luke.”</p>
<p>“So you’ve heard from her?”</p>
<p>A shock of realisation suddenly rushed down Phoenix’s spine. Crap. As far as the rest of the village knew, she was still missing. And she herself had told him to act nervous! What could he say? Could he avoid letting slip that he knew she was alive and well?</p>
<p>“…not yet,” he lied, “but I know she must be out there somewhere.”</p>
<p>Wait a second. His nervousness at being asked that question… would that work? Would she buy that? She wasn’t saying anything or looking in his direction, so it was difficult to tell if she had caught on, but if she hadn’t, then he’d be fine, right?</p>
<p>“I trust my daughter, Ms Hill,” Phoenix told her, and hoped for once that his confidence came across as forced. “She’s clever. Resourceful. Wherever she is, I know she’s going to be okay. Especially if she’s got the Professor with her.”</p>
<p>“You’re happy with the idea of your daughter being out in the mountains with a murderer?”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t reply. The entire village was convinced that Layton was a killer, and by this point, there wouldn’t be any purpose to trying to argue about it.</p>
<p>“Gets pretty cold out there at night too,” Jack added.</p>
<p>“Oh, trust me,” said Phoenix. “I’ve learned that by now.”</p>
<p>“Plus there’s the Painted King’s horde,” said Jack, and she cast another dirty look in his direction.</p>
<p>Hmm, maybe it would be better not to admit that he could see them without looking through a special stone.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he said casually, “they’re fine if you just steer clear of them.”</p>
<p>“It’d probably be more realistic to give up on searching for that girl,” Jack said flatly, “and look for what’s left of her instead. Check the Horde to see if she’s become one of them. With no Minstrel to keep them calm, it’ll be even less safe to go out at night than it was before.”</p>
<p>Wow. Now she was telling Phoenix that his daughter was most likely dead. He had <em>really</em> lived up to his personal expectation of making every single person here hate him, hadn’t he?</p>
<p>“Actually,” he said to steer the conversation away from that horrible suggestion, “that’s something I wanted to speak to you about.”</p>
<p>“You mean how you and your little friend took the Minstrel down from the Pictish Shrine, meaning he couldn’t soothe the Horde for the entire night?” Jack demanded, clearly struggling to contain her fury. “And how your actions directly led to the death of our mayor?”</p>
<p>Phoenix suddenly remembered that she kept a spade under her bar and was <em>very</em> happy to brandish it when she was angry.</p>
<p>“…not quite,” he said, and to himself he added, “wow, word gets around fast here.”</p>
<p>Apparently Jack heard that, because he heard the distinct sound of her grabbing her precious spade.</p>
<p>Phoenix straightened up in his seat. It might be a good idea to show he was unbothered by her attempts at intimidation.</p>
<p>“I was more interested in learning what you know about the current Minstrel in general,” he told her. “Particularly how he came to be the Minstrel in the first place.”</p>
<p>And there it was. In a flash, the innkeeper’s body became entwined in thick, heavy spectral chains, held in place by five solid red locks engraved with an image of the very stone that allowed him to see them.</p>
<p>Jack, of course, remained none the wiser as to their presence.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you want me to say, Mr Wright,” she said. “I’m not sure how you think I know more than anyone else in our village.” She tossed her cloth aside. “Go bother Henry. I’m sure he’d appreciate the company.”</p>
<p>Henry, Henry… that was the town librarian, right? Her cousin? Man, even for such a small village, there were still so many people that Phoenix hadn’t even encountered, let alone met.</p>
<p>Never mind. It wasn’t like he was going to follow her suggestion.</p>
<p>“No,” he said, “I think you know more than you’re letting on.”</p>
<p>Jack pulled out her spade and slammed it on her bar.</p>
<p>“Prove it,” she snarled.</p>
<p>Phoenix kept up the best poker face he had.</p>
<p>“Do I really need to?” he asked. “I think it would be easier on both of us if you just told me everything, don’t you agree?”</p>
<p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” shouted Jack.</p>
<p>“Do you now?” Phoenix made a show of casually shuffling in his seat. “Then how about telling me the name of this Minstrel you and the rest of this village have been talking about ever since I got here?”</p>
<p>“H-huh?” Jack almost stumbled back in shock.</p>
<p>Phoenix resisted the urge to thrust himself to his feet.</p>
<p>Memories of last night flashed through his mind. Edgeworth stumbling into the Professor’s light, Phoenix needing help to lift his unconscious body onto his back and staggering his way down through the mountain, sitting and waiting while the doctor examined him and trying to process the thought that his best friend might not make it through the night...</p>
<p>How could they have done that to him? How could the people of this village have been so unspeakably cruel?</p>
<p>“Say his name, Ms Hill,” he growled. “I know you know it. Say the name of the man whose door you labelled Do Not Disturb so that nobody visiting would think to go into his room and find him and, by doing so, find out what you’ve all been doing to him since he arrived in this village.”</p>
<p>A grim sense of satisfaction crept into Phoenix’s heart at the sight of Jack backing away from him, gripping her spade and staring at him in terror.</p>
<p>“M… Miles Edgeworth,” she said softly, and sighed in resignation. “His name is Miles Edgeworth.”</p>
<p>And the moment she finished speaking, one of the locks that surrounded her thickset body shattered and fell away into nothing.</p>
<p>“There,” he said with a friendly smile, “was that really so hard?”</p>
<p>“Hey!” Jack’s anger returned full force. “How do you know he isn’t from Fatargan to begin with? He could have been here his entire life!”</p>
<p>She brandished her spade in such a way that Phoenix got the sense she could swing it at any moment.</p>
<p>“Who are you to say he wasn’t just staying here for some privacy?” she pointed out. “Sometimes people just like to stay in hotels for a while!”</p>
<p>Phoenix set his jaw as hard as he could to keep himself from laughing.</p>
<p>“Yes, I agree that’s a good point,” he said, trying to keep his voice as impassive as he could. “Especially if it’s an establishment as cosy as this one.”</p>
<p>“Exactly!” cried Jack. “So stop with this stupid interrogation and get the hell out of my pub!”</p>
<p>“Too bad it isn’t true though,” Phoenix said smugly.</p>
<p>The look on her face was downright <em>priceless</em>.</p>
<p>“What?” She scowled in confusion and frustration. “How do <em>you</em> know that?”</p>
<p>Before he answered, Phoenix made a show of casually leaning on the bar.</p>
<p>“Perhaps I’ve never mentioned it,” he said, “but at one point in time, I <em>was</em> a qualified lawyer. A defence attorney to be more precise. Miles Edgeworth, on the other hand, was a prosecutor. Still is, as a matter of fact.”</p>
<p>Jack’s face fell again as she started putting the pieces together.</p>
<p>“…so you’ve faced him in court?” she realised. “H-he could still have come from-”</p>
<p>“He’s also one of my closest friends,” Phoenix interrupted.</p>
<p>The innkeeper’s shoulders slumped in defeat.</p>
<p>“…oh…” she said softly.</p>
<p>“I’ve known him since we were nine years old,” Phoenix told her happily.</p>
<p>Jack lowered her spade, suddenly passive as a tired dog.</p>
<p>“…you could have said so from the beginning,” she said, and the second of the locks that surrounded her exploded into vanishing smithereens.</p>
<p>So she’d been doing it consciously. She really had been trying to lie to him about his <em>best friend’s</em> entire life. Fresh anger bubbled up in Phoenix’s stomach at this woman’s sheer lack of shame.</p>
<p>“You’re lucky pressing charges is such a pain,” he told her. “If it wasn’t, I’d call in the authorities and have half of this village arrested for wrongful imprisonment.”</p>
<p>He fixed her with his angriest glare.</p>
<p>“Or maybe just you, Ms Hill,” he said.</p>
<p>“What?!” Jack raised her spade again. “Why just me?”</p>
<p>“You’re not very good at playing dumb, Ms Hill…” Maybe it would be a good idea to calm her down in case she decided to try to attack him. “Can I call you Jack?”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Jack huffed. “Why not? Seeing as you say you know me so bloody well.”</p>
<p>“I don’t claim to know <em>you</em>, Jack,” Phoenix told her. “I just know that you’re hiding information from me. Information that’s vital in uncovering the truth about this village.”</p>
<p>By now he could feel the anger radiating off her in a thick, heavy miasma.</p>
<p>“And what kind of truth do you think you’re talking about?” she demanded, brandishing that spade yet again.</p>
<p>Phoenix leaned his head on his hand. If she was trying to intimidate him, he had to show her that it was <em>not</em> going to work.</p>
<p>“You tell me,” he said casually.</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>come on!</em>” It seemed like he was wearing her out.</p>
<p>“No, Jack,” said Phoenix, pushing her even further. “<em>You</em> come on. You’re the one who’s been sheltering Edgeworth, so you must be pretty high up in Fatargan’s social structure.”</p>
<p>“I run the town’s only pub!” Jack slammed her spade on the bar. “Of course people know me!”</p>
<p>She was pretty exasperated by now and they were only half done. Perhaps dropping a bomb would soften her up enough to make things easier.</p>
<p>“And that must mean you knew Angela Skellig rather well, right?”</p>
<p>Sure enough, her anger flashed with confusion.</p>
<p>“What does she have to do with this?” she asked.</p>
<p>Oh, come on. Just <em>admit the truth</em> already.</p>
<p>“I have a feeling you knew exactly what was going on from the start,” Phoenix told her. “You were ordered to keep Edgeworth here and prevent him from leaving. You saw to it that he climbed that mountain every night. Thanks to you, the people of this village stayed reliant on the Minstrel’s music.”</p>
<p>Jack stepped back from her bar. Her spade slipped from one of her hands and its blade clanged against the wooden floorboards as she stared at Phoenix in frustration.</p>
<p>“Reliant?” she echoed. “How so?”</p>
<p>“I’ve been told he plays that violin to keep the spirits in these mountains calm,” Phoenix said. “To prevent them from attacking the village.”</p>
<p>“Yes, which is why it’s such a problem that-”</p>
<p>“But is that really true?”</p>
<p>“What?!” Jack clutched her spade defensively. “Of course it is!”</p>
<p>Phoenix lowered his hand down to the bar.</p>
<p>“When the Officers Poe came to arrest Edgeworth,” he explained, “they said they’d had rattling windows and swinging doors during the night, but we didn’t get any of that. The Professor’s cottage seemed to be left alone.”</p>
<p>All of Jack’s anger seemed to fade away, and she stared Phoenix in pure, abject bafflement.</p>
<p>“…what?” she said softly.</p>
<p>“Tell me, Jack,” Phoenix said. “Is the music really as vital as you claim it is?”</p>
<p>“Yes!” Jack insisted. “Yes, it is!”</p>
<p>“Or is your claim just a ploy to keep the people in this village placid?” Phoenix asked. “To prevent them from asking too many questions?”</p>
<p>Jack’s shoulders slumped in defeat, her spade clanging against the floor again.</p>
<p>“…I guess…” she said softly. “…it could be both, couldn’t it?”</p>
<p>With a soft clang that only Phoenix could hear, a third lock burst and dissolved into the air.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, she still seemed confused. Maybe she had been telling the truth about this one? Maybe she genuinely didn’t understand why Phoenix hadn’t experienced any of the haunting phenomena he had told her about?</p>
<p>If so, that just raised even <em>more </em>questions, but he’d have plenty of time to ask them later.</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s possible,” he said calmly. “The truth can be used to mislead, after all. Heck, that’s one of the first things I learned after I passed the bar.”</p>
<p>A sigh hissed through Jack’s clenched teeth.</p>
<p>“You need to stop, Mr Wright,” she snarled.</p>
<p>“Stop what?” Phoenix asked innocently. “All I’m doing is asking you questions.”</p>
<p>“You’re making me out to be some kind of criminal mastermind!” Jack cried. “I’m not! All I’ve ever done is try to do what’s best for Fatargan and the people who live in it! The last thing I want is to think that someone got hurt because of me! Or that I’ve been lying to people! You don’t- You’re making me out to be some kind of master manipulator and I’m <em>not!</em>”</p>
<p>Hmm, it seemed like she was trying to be honest now.</p>
<p>She was right though, wasn’t she? She <em>hadn’t</em> been the mastermind behind all the awful things happening in this village. Phoenix had never thought of himself as a mind reader, but he felt more than ready to hazard a guess as to who it actually was.</p>
<p>“I know,” he said.</p>
<p>“What?!” Jack spluttered.</p>
<p>“I know you aren’t the mastermind, Jack,” Phoenix assured her. “If anything, I feel sorry for you. You’re one of the people being manipulated.”</p>
<p>“Oh, am I now?” Jack asked angrily. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me who’s been pulling the strings in this twisted operation you seem to think everybody’s running!”</p>
<p>“I can if you want,” Phoenix said casually, once again subtly telling her that he didn’t care about how scary she thought she was.</p>
<p>“Oh my god, then fine!” shouted Jack in obvious exasperation. “Tell me who it is! Introduce me to them and I’ll draw them a pint!”</p>
<p>“No point there,” said Phoenix, “unless you wanted to make a toast to her memory.”</p>
<p>He gave her the most serious look he could manage. It was vital that she understood he was <em>not</em> here to play around.</p>
<p>“The person who’s been ‘pulling the strings’ as you put it?” he said. “It was Angela Skellig. She’s been in charge of this whole thing. And you knew that. I’m right, aren’t I?”</p>
<p>By now, Jack looked as though she desperately needed to sit down.</p>
<p>“…yes,” she said numbly.</p>
<p>And then there was one.</p>
<p>One more secret to bust wide open and then they would finally, <em>finally</em> be able to talk man to villager.</p>
<p>“But there’s something you’re wrong about, Mr Wright!”</p>
<p>However, that one could end up more troublesome than the rest.</p>
<p>“And what’s that?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>Jack slammed her spade on the bar more furiously than ever.</p>
<p>“The entire time you’ve been in this village, you’ve been nothing but dismissive of our faith!” she yelled. “I’m tired of your blasphemy, you bastard! I remember how cruel you were towards Mr and Mrs Oldfart when they quite clearly explained that they had been sworn to silence in the name of the Painted King and they couldn’t reveal their secrets without damning themselves to an eternity wandering lost-”</p>
<p>“Jack, please.” Phoenix defensively held up his hands. “I’m not here to be a blasphemer or whatever you want to call me. All I want is to know what’s happening in this village. All I’m interested in is the truth. Do you understand?”</p>
<p>After a few more moments of furious glaring, Jack pressed her spade onto the floor beside her and propped one hand on her hip. Were she outside, she would have looked like some determined pioneer, but as it was, she just looked dangerous or violent.</p>
<p>“Fine,” she said. “Then what information are you so hungry for?”</p>
<p>Phoenix leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. Perhaps adopting a more Edgey demeanour might get him the rest of the way to finding out what he wanted to know.</p>
<p>“If the religion of the Painted King is really so powerful,” he said, “if it really governs the lives of everybody in this village, then can you tell me the details of your worshipping practises?”</p>
<p>Jack remained in her dramatic pose, but her eyes flickered wildly to one side.</p>
<p>“…what?” she said softly.</p>
<p>“If you’re so confident about your faith,” said Phoenix, holding himself back from a directly prosecutorial voice, “you shouldn’t have any trouble telling me why this village doesn’t have a church or anything of the sort.”</p>
<p>Maybe it was a bit too much? He uncrossed his arms and pocketed his hands instead.</p>
<p>“The closest I’ve seen to any kind of holy location is the Sacred Well,” he pointed out, “and even then, nobody stopped Dr Wallace from taking a sample of its water. Sure, people complained later on, but I didn’t see anyone stepping in. They just gave him dirty looks. So that pond can’t be <em>that</em> important to your faith, can it?”</p>
<p>Her hand slipped away from her hip.</p>
<p>“…w-well…” she said weakly.</p>
<p>“Does the Painted King preach tolerance?” Phoenix asked. “I can’t help thinking He doesn’t with how my friends and I have been treated ever since we set foot in this goddamn village.”</p>
<p>“I-”</p>
<p>“What’s His stance on the LGBT community or women wearing trousers or working on a Sunday and having shrimp for dinner?”</p>
<p>“Don’t-”</p>
<p>“Are there any religious holidays associated with the Painted King? Do you still celebrate Christmas or Easter? Or are those forbidden?”</p>
<p>“No, we still…” Once again, Jack’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “…well…”</p>
<p>Time to put this to an end. She’d clearly suffered enough.</p>
<p>“I think I know the answer, Jack,” Phoenix said. “The Painted King’s religion isn’t a religion at all. It's a cult. A small one, but a cult nonetheless. And I think you know who ran this cult up until last night. I don’t think I even need to say her name.”</p>
<p>Jack didn’t reply.</p>
<p>She didn’t say a single word. Didn’t even shoot him a dirty look.</p>
<p>“The Painted King isn’t even a god, is He?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>She remained silent.</p>
<p>Her hand fell limply from her spade’s handle and it fell and clattered against the floorboards.</p>
<p>“…no,” she said quietly. “As far as I know, he’s not.”</p>
<p>At long last, the final lock disintegrated and its remains faded away, and the chains that had wrapped and bound her body rattled away into the aether.</p>
<p>It was over.</p>
<p>He’d won.</p>
<p>And this poor woman looked exhausted by the ordeal.</p>
<p>“Ms Hill…” No, it would be best if he tried to show kindness. “Jack, I think it’s time you and I had a proper conversation.”</p>
<p>Jack’s sigh was one of the most worn out he’d heard all week.</p>
<p>“…yes,” she said. “Yes, it is…”</p>
<p>She grabbed a glass from under her bar.</p>
<p>“God, I need a drink.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Jack released a long, satisfied breath and slammed her beer glass down on the table hard enough to shake the bottle of water she’d set between them.</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but stare. When he’d seen the clear, colourless liquid in that bottle, he had assumed it was <em>vodka</em>.</p>
<p>“When you said you needed a drink…” he said, and hoped she would interpret his silence as a need for explanation.</p>
<p>“I’m a business owner, Mr Wright,” Jack replied as she poured herself a fresh glassful. “You really think I’d get drunk this early in the day?”</p>
<p>Phoenix waited for her to finish drinking. Part of him wished she had brought a glass for him as well. Seeing her guzzle the water so enthusiastically was making him thirsty.</p>
<p>“I mean…” He nervously scratched his head under his hat. “I’m not familiar with how things work in Scotland, so I don’t really know.”</p>
<p>She slammed her glass down on the table again and panted. Who’d have thought that chugging a pint glass full of water would leave someone a bit out of breath? Truly a lesson for the ages.</p>
<p>“In any case,” he said to steer the subject away as she poured another half-glassful, “I’m interested to hear what you know about everything that’s been going on in this village. Surely an innkeeper picks up on all the juicy details, doesn’t she?”</p>
<p>Jack froze, moving only to lift her bottle and keep her glass from overfilling.</p>
<p>“Look, Mr Wright.” She rested the now half-empty bottle on the table. “I know what you must think of me, but I didn’t <em>want</em> to keep Mr Edgeworth here against his will.” She took a sip of water. “Like I said, I’m a business owner! If word spread to other towns about what I’d done, I’d get boycotted! I’d go bankrupt!”</p>
<p>Something about that seemed… odd.</p>
<p>“Or…” Phoenix frowned. “…you know. Get arrested.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that too, I suppose,” Jack sighed.</p>
<p>Wow. Talk about priorities.</p>
<p>Still, the poor woman had already gone through a gruelling interrogation at Phoenix’s hands. It’d be better for both of them if he kept things calm.</p>
<p>“So why did you do it?” he asked as gently as he could. “You’ve made it clear you weren’t the ringleader, but why did you agree to it?”</p>
<p>“Because I didn’t have a choice!” snapped the exasperated Jack. “If you had to pick between keeping a man locked in a room, only letting him out at night, and being cursed to an eternity wandering as a lost soul, which would you choose?!”</p>
<p>She downed another mouthful of water, and for a moment, Phoenix wondered if she was being honest about the lack of alcohol.</p>
<p>“You <em>just</em> said you know the Painted King isn’t a god,” he pointed out.</p>
<p>Jack’s face fell in obvious regret as she lowered her glass to the table.</p>
<p>“To be honest, I can’t be sure <em>what</em> he is,” she said. “He’s something powerful, we know that much, but whether he’s an actual deity or just an angry poltergeist is something I’ve never been clear about. And I grew up in Fatargan, for god’s sake!”</p>
<p>So now she was taking her Lord’s name in vain?</p>
<p>Well, <em>someone’s</em> name in vain, at least.</p>
<p>“Is he anything like the spirits I see wandering around the streets at night?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>Jack had been midway through another sip during that question. She spat her water back up into her glass and stared at Phoenix like he had just screamed in her face in fluent Spanish.</p>
<p>“You can see them too?!” she spluttered.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure how, but yes,” Phoenix replied. “I know this village apparently has some kind of seeing stone dealer, but I can see those spirits just fine without one.”</p>
<p>It would probably be better not to mention the magatama. To introduce it to anyone native to this village would almost certainly raise many more questions than it answered.</p>
<p>“You aren’t from Fatargan, are you?” Jack asked.</p>
<p>“What? No way!” Phoenix exclaimed. “I’ve spent my entire life on the Pacific coast! My great, great grandfather apparently spent some time in London, but that was as far north as he went! Not to mention he was Japanese!”</p>
<p>“But I don’t understand how that could be possible!” Jack cried, and then she gave a thoughtful pause. “…unless there’s some kind of Sacred Well where you come from too…”</p>
<p>So it was the Sacred Well that was most relevant to these people being able to see the ghosts, was it?</p>
<p>“Is that what the people here get it from?” he asked to make sure. “Some pond in a cave?”</p>
<p>The look Jack gave him was downright <em>offended</em>.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright,” she said sternly, “I know you’re from out of town, but you must’ve realised by now that the Sacred Well is far more than just a pond. Haven’t you noticed that no matter how cold the air gets, no matter how much snow falls around it, the water never freezes?”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s mind wandered to the pond they were discussing.</p>
<p>His magatama had slipped into it, it was true, and it wasn’t very heavy. Had the water been frozen on top, it probably would’ve just skittered across the surface, and when he’d reached in to take it out, there hadn’t been any ice around his hand at all.</p>
<p>But why? What had kept it from freezing? If it had been cold enough for Edgeworth to start developing frostbite during the night, it would definitely have been cold enough to freeze the pond! Probably right down to its bed!</p>
<p>“Yes, that is a bit strange,” he said when he realised he’d fallen silent.</p>
<p>Jack didn’t seem to care. She was too busy downing another large mouthful of water.</p>
<p>“Nobody in this village is quite sure how,” she told him, “but that water is <em>thick</em> with spiritual power. I know it can’t be magic, because I’ve been here upwards of twenty years and have yet to see anything close to a faerie, but when people consume that water, they…”</p>
<p>She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.</p>
<p>“We can <em>see</em> things, Mr Wright,” she said. “Things I don’t think any living person was meant to see.”</p>
<p>And by that, she no doubt meant they saw persons who weren’t living.</p>
<p>“You don’t drink directly from the pond, do you?” Phoenix asked. “I mean, it’s a <em>pond</em>. That’s pretty unsanitary.”</p>
<p>“Of course not! We…” Jack took another small sip of water to calm herself down. “We use the water to grow our crops. You’ve seen the greenhouses up on the hill, haven’t you?”</p>
<p>Greenhouses, greenhouses… yes, he’d noticed them on his first day in the village. Phoenix gave Jack a nod of affirmation and Jack laughed.</p>
<p>“You should see some of the things that get grown in there,” she told him. “Last month, I got sent a carrot the size of my forearm!”</p>
<p>Phoenix whistled in amazement.</p>
<p>“That’s impressive!” he commented.</p>
<p>“But it’s not just our crops!” Jack added happily. “We use the water for forging too.”</p>
<p>“Forging?”</p>
<p>“Yep! Don’t you remember? We said during that malpractice trial a couple of days ago. Everything metal you see in Fatargan was made right here. The window frames, fire pokers and tongs, Caitlin, even Nosie Oldfart’s cigarette holder was made in this village!”</p>
<p>Wow. Isolated mountain-bound villages had better production than Phoenix had expected.</p>
<p>“I guess living in an ex-coal mining town has its perks, huh?” he remarked.</p>
<p>“Here and there, I suppose,” Jack shrugged.</p>
<p>She threw back the rest of her water and poured herself even more. The bottle was almost empty by now. Goddamn, this woman was <em>thirsty</em>.</p>
<p>“Back on topic, Jack,” Phoenix said. “You need to tell me who put you up to it. I want to actually hear it from you. Who told you to keep Edgeworth here?”</p>
<p>Jack hesitated, bottle still in hand.</p>
<p>When she lowered it, she was slow. Noticeably uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure if I should say,” she replied. “I don’t want her to come back and haunt me.”</p>
<p>“Then let me say it,” said Phoenix. “It was the mayor, wasn’t it? Angela Skellig. Am I wrong?”</p>
<p>“I thought you had already figured that out?”</p>
<p>“I need to be as sure as I can.”</p>
<p>The innkeeper froze again, her glass halfway to her mouth.</p>
<p>Watching Phoenix from behind that glass, she suddenly shoved it in his direction, sloshing it onto her sleeve. Once he had recovered from his initial bemusement, Phoenix accepted the glass and took a swig.</p>
<p>It <em>was</em> water. And it was wonderfully refreshing.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Jack once he had swallowed. “Yes, it was Ms Skellig.”</p>
<p>Phoenix took another long, grateful pull from the glass. It hadn’t just been his mind playing tricks on him. He <em>was</em> thirsty.</p>
<p>Not as thirsty as Jack apparently was though. Good <em>lord</em>.</p>
<p>“Nobody wants to be the Minstrel, Mr Wright,” Jack told him. “<em>Nobody</em>. All the people we’ve had to do it have died from exposure within a matter of months, if not weeks. Ms Skellig thought that somebody from out of town might finally put this insanity to an end, but-”</p>
<p>“Wait.” Phoenix lowered the glass. “Put it to an end? I thought the Minstrel was just supposed to keep the spirits calm!”</p>
<p>Jack shuffled uncomfortably in her seat.</p>
<p>“That’s what he’s been doing,” she explained, “but I’ve heard tell that if the right sort of person plays the Silver Violin, the Painted King will be appeased for good and his horde finally put to rest.”</p>
<p>“Did Ms Skellig tell you that?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>Jack didn’t reply.</p>
<p>“I’ll take that as a yes,” Phoenix decided.</p>
<p>The innkeeper snatched up the bottle and finished it off in a single mouthful, and Phoenix simply sipped on the water he had been given. The degree to which this woman drank was downright Herculean, as was the strength with which she slammed that bottle down on the table.</p>
<p>“I think it’s worth mentioning that the Silver Violin is just as much a product of the Sacred Well as Caitlin and me,” she told Phoenix. “It’s made of wood grown right here in Fatargan with the Well’s water, its metal parts were forged using that water, its painted finish was diluted with that water- heck, even the bow’s strings are from the tail of a horse born and raised drinking from the Well!”</p>
<p>“Dang,” said Phoenix. “So it’s a spirit power machine, huh?”</p>
<p>He hoped he didn’t come across as insincere. It really <em>was</em> impressive to think about. Could this violin be on the same level as the magatama? What kind of spiritual abilities could it give a person who held it?</p>
<p>What the hell could it have done to Edgeworth?!</p>
<p>“I don’t know why it doesn’t work the way it should,” Jack sighed. “I thought someone with Mr Edgeworth’s obvious experience might finally…”</p>
<p>She leaned her elbows on the table and slapped her face into her hands.</p>
<p>“I don’t know why I haven’t left this village and made for Aberdeen long ago,” she groaned.</p>
<p>Had he gone too far?</p>
<p>The last thing Phoenix wanted was to cause another person to give up on their life. He took as large a mouthful of the water as he could manage in the hopes that it could be taken as a sign of encouragement.</p>
<p>“If it makes you feel better,” he said, “I think it takes guts to choose to live in a place like this.”</p>
<p>After giving her face a thorough rub, Jack looked up from her hands.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Mr Wright,” she replied.</p>
<p>Phoenix responded by finishing off the glass of water as quickly as he could. It was crisp and cold and perfectly quenched his thirst. No wonder Jack had managed to down so much of it.</p>
<p>Hmm, just one last thing left on the table…</p>
<p>“There’s one thing in particular I’d like you to tell me about the spirits in this village,” he said. “Could they get powerful enough to kill?”</p>
<p>Jack pursed her lips in thought.</p>
<p>“Perhaps if they got angry enough,” she said, “but honestly, I have no idea. You’d have to ask the authority around here, and that would be Ms Skellig.”</p>
<p>“…who’s dead.”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>Well, at the very least, he’d gathered a decent amount of intel regarding the village. Not just the village, but just how incredibly haunted it actually was. Still, there were a couple of questions remaining, but he had a good feeling Jack wouldn’t be able to answer either of them.</p>
<p>What kind of person was actually needed to play that violin if doing so would put the spirits to rest for good?</p>
<p>And what would happen to Fatargan and its people if it was never played again?</p>
<p>By this point, with everything he’d learned, he wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to know.</p>
<p>Perhaps a person who had actually played the role of the Minstrel would be able to better answer those questions, but the only one Phoenix actually knew of was one from out of town, so he probably wouldn’t know at all.</p>
<p>Still, it was time to go and speak to him. To learn just how much <em>he</em> had learned about Fatargan during his month in its mountains.</p>
<p>Phoenix pushed his chair back and stood up.</p>
<p>“Thank you for telling me all this, Jack,” he said. “I have a feeling it’s going to end up pretty helpful in keeping Edgeworth out of prison.”</p>
<p>Jack’s face fell.</p>
<p>“…oh,” she said. “I forgot that’s what you were here for.”</p>
<p>Crap. So their conversation hadn’t done anything to convince her of Edgeworth’s innocence.</p>
<p>“Do you really believe he’s somehow responsible for Ms Skellig’s death?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, if you want me to be honest,” Jack said as she too got to her feet, “I don’t think I can be sure either way.” She picked up the bottle and took the glass from Phoenix’s hand. “All I know is that our mayor is dead and there must be at least <em>someone</em> responsible for that fact.”</p>
<p>She walked back to her bar and picked up a washcloth.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t put it past that Professor to have broken into her house and killed her,” she commented as she wiped over the glass’s rim. “He’s already killed Mr Oldfart, so why not?”</p>
<p>And <em>that</em> was a statement best left as ignored as possible.</p>
<p>“Yeah, sure,” Phoenix said casually. “Anyway, how much do I owe you?”</p>
<p>“For two nights and the attached evening meals?” Jack popped open a till that was hidden under the bar. “That’ll be £90.”</p>
<p>“What?!” Phoenix felt like he had been punched in the face.</p>
<p>Jack gave him a quizzical look.</p>
<p>“Did I not tell you the rates?” she asked. “£30 per night and £15 for a meal. That adds up to a total of £90 for your two-night stay.”</p>
<p>“But…” What the heck was Phoenix supposed to say in a situation like this?! “…but I don’t…”</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, shall I have to call the police?”</p>
<p>“N-no, no, it’s fine, it’s fine…”</p>
<p>He struggled to pull his wallet out of his jeans pocket and popped it open to see how much he had.</p>
<p>£105. Two fifties and a five. All the money he had left for his vacation, sandwiched between a pair of American singles.</p>
<p>“…you’re going to need to make change…” he said weakly.</p>
<p>“I can do that,” Jack replied with a smile.</p>
<p>Even as his mind flooded with rage and grief, he tugged the two fifties out of his wallet and passed them over, the pink face of the queen staring back at him with an enigmatic smile as if to say ‘you deserve this’ as they vanished into the till.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Jack said happily, and she handed back a note with the queen’s face in orange. “Will you need any help with your luggage?”</p>
<p>“No, I think I can manage it…”</p>
<p>Phoenix started speaking reflexively, but surely it wouldn’t be a good look for him to drag those bags with him to the police station, would it? Plus it was doubtful those cops would be happy to let him leave them in the waiting room.</p>
<p>“…actually,” he said, “is it okay if I come back and get it all later? There’s something I need to do first and it’d be a bit awkward if I was dragging suitcases around with me.”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t mind,” said Jack. “I doubt I’ll have a great many customers begging for a room tonight. Your lot were the only folks who came in on the last bus and if there’s no Minstrel to play for the Horde, everybody will be hiding in their homes for safety.”</p>
<p>“Ah, thanks,” Phoenix sighed as he turned away. “I’m not sure how long I’ll take, but I will be back, I promise. Don’t steal any of our stuff until I’m back.”</p>
<p>“Hey, what sort of business do you think I run here?!” Jack shouted as he reached the door.</p>
<p>“The sort that threatens people with shovels!” Phoenix called over his shoulder as he opened it.</p>
<p>“SHE’S A SPADE!”</p>
<p>That was the last thing Phoenix heard from her before he closed the door behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>He could feel the eyes of the village on his back.</p>
<p>Glancing around, they were watching from windows. They twitched their drapes closed when he saw them and those who were out in the street, staring as he walked past, huddled into their scarves and coats and conspicuously played innocent.</p>
<p>Phoenix tried his hardest to pretend they weren’t there. Everybody here already hated his guts. There was no need to rile them up even more.</p>
<p>Along with the eyes boring into the back of his head, Phoenix ignored the Sacred Well as he passed it and crossed the now Nosie-free threshold into the police station.</p>
<p>He didn’t see her anywhere in the waiting room. Perhaps they’d taken her home?</p>
<p>As usual, he couldn’t tell whether it was Ray or Ven who was sitting behind the desk reading a book with <em>THE YOUNG ELITES</em> splashed across its cover, but given how they had treated him, he didn’t want to spare them the courtesy of asking.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Officer Poe,” he said as politely as he could bear.</p>
<p>The officer, whichever one he was, didn’t respond. Didn’t even look up from his book.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Phoenix sighed. “You’re doing this again, are you?”</p>
<p>Here he was saying ‘again’ when he didn’t even know if it was the same person he had spoken to the night before last.</p>
<p>As he had expected, the officer continued ignoring him.</p>
<p>Maybe trying to be amicable would help somehow?</p>
<p>“Look, I understand the hostility,” Phoenix told the cop. “Things have been kind of a mess ever since I came to Fatargan. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I think chaos just follows me around wherever I go.”</p>
<p>He had hoped that he could lighten the mood a little, but the officer didn’t seem to appreciate the attempt. He just stayed completely fixated on his book.</p>
<p>Phoenix knew it was an act. He was a man who was <em>impossible</em> to ignore.</p>
<p>“I want to speak to Edgeworth.”</p>
<p>Of course it was fruitless.</p>
<p>The officer huffed through his nose and turned a page in his book. A move that any other person might have taken as a signal to cut their losses and move on.</p>
<p>“The guy in your cells?” Phoenix clarified instead. “The one you came to the Professor’s place to arrest because he had the nerve to not want to freeze to death?”</p>
<p>The silent treatment continued.</p>
<p>Phoenix gritted his teeth in frustration.</p>
<p>“Okay, let me try putting it another way.”</p>
<p>He slammed on the desk as hard as he could and the officer jumped a clear foot into the air. He was so shocked he almost dropped his book and stared at Phoenix with eyes as wide as saucers.</p>
<p>“Seeing as I’m Mr Edgeworth’s attorney,” Phoenix stated, “you are legally obligated to allow me to speak with my client. Unless you have some way of making the charges against him stick, you don’t have any right to hold him, especially in your cells. Let me tell you, Officer Poe, whichever one you are.”</p>
<p>He pointed his finger right in the redhead’s face.</p>
<p>“As soon as I get back to Aberdeen, I’ll be filing a scathing complaint to whoever’s overseeing your little operations,” Phoenix promised, “and you’d better believe I’m not bluffing on this one. So if you have ANY idea what’s good for you, you’ll allow me to speak to Mr Edgeworth. <em>Now</em>.”</p>
<p>The officer stared at him in stunned silence.</p>
<p>Phoenix remained where he was. He didn’t care if he’d gone too far this time. Right now it seemed impossible for him to be able to go far enough to begin with.</p>
<p>But eventually, Officer Poe picked up a bookmark with some kind of cartoon rabbit-cat-fox thing on it and slipped it between his book’s pages.</p>
<p>“Fine,” he spat.</p>
<p>He thrust himself out of his chair and led Phoenix to the interrogation room from two days prior. Phoenix stepped in, hoping the door wouldn’t be locked behind him, and sat down at the table. Officer Poe shot him his 80<sup>th</sup> dirty look of the day before closing the door on him.</p>
<p>Phoenix pulled his travel journal out from safekeeping in his hoodie and withdrew his pencil from his pocket. While he waited, it made sense that he could take the time to fill in a quick evidence list.</p>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li><em>Angela Skellig – Autopsy Report<br/>Victim was killed by blunt force trauma to the head. Time of death: 9:52pm<br/><br/><br/></em></li>
<li><em>Crime Scene Notes<br/>Bloodstain from victim was noticeably diluted, poss. from sculpture meltwater. Mess from mantlepiece suggests a struggle. Door was locked from within.<br/><br/><br/></em></li>
<li><em>Angela’s Safe<br/>Item #1: poss. murder weapon from Oldfart killing. Item #2: original Oldfart prescription. Item #3: victim’s personal journal. Item #4: binoculars. Item #5: carbamazepine pills<br/><br/><br/></em></li>
<li><em>Sacred Well<br/>Supposed source of spiritual energy in the village, allowing villagers to see ghosts unaided<br/><br/><br/></em></li>
<li><em>Jack’s Testimony<br/>“I helped keep Mr Edgeworth captive in my inn under Mayor Skellig’s orders. She’s the one who made him the Minstrel.”<br/><br/><br/></em></li>
<li><em>Magatama<br/>An amulet full of spiritual power</em></li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<p>Hmm, was that enough? Was that last note even relevant?</p>
<p>The door was opening. It would have to be.</p>
<p>He looked up just in time to see Edgeworth get unceremoniously shoved, stumbling and unsteady, into the room.</p>
<p>“Twenty minutes,” said the unseen cop responsible.</p>
<p>“The least you could do is not manhandle people!” Edgeworth yelled over his shoulder.</p>
<p>The door was shut in his face without any sort of response.</p>
<p>“Honestly,” Edgeworth sighed, “the <em>nerve</em> of some youth these days.”</p>
<p>“Let me guess,” Phoenix said with a smile, “you’d rather be arrested by Detective Gumshoe, right?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth sat – or collapsed, more like – into the chair on the other side of the table.</p>
<p>“At least the detective is stupid enough to be kind-hearted,” he remarked. “He certainly never gets some idea that he’s superior to the people he arrests. Especially when those people know for a fact that they didn’t commit any crimes whatsoever.”</p>
<p>“How is the detective, by the way?” Phoenix asked. “I haven’t seen him at all since I got disbarred.”</p>
<p>“Gumshoe is as Gumshoe does,” Edgeworth replied, crossing his arms to presumably regain some of that sense of superiority he had just mentioned. “While you and I strive to better ourselves or our lives, he remains as rooted in place as the mountains around us. It would take a miracle to make him change even the slightest iota.”</p>
<p>He leaned his crossed arms on the table between them and suddenly looked a lot smaller.</p>
<p>“Although he does ask about you from time to time,” he added.</p>
<p>A pang of guilt punched Phoenix’s heart in the gut.</p>
<p>“What do you tell him?” he asked, and prayed that Edgeworth didn’t know about the things he did at his replacement job.</p>
<p>“That you’re still alive,” Edgeworth said. “That’s all I can really say. A man as simple as that just wouldn’t understand the sort of situation you found yourself thrown into all those months ago.”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t respond.</p>
<p>There wasn’t really any way he <em>could</em> respond without once again feeling completely and utterly <em>horrible</em> about himself and his life.</p>
<p>He didn’t want that. He didn’t WANT to think of himself that way.</p>
<p>Oh god, Edgeworth was still looking at him.</p>
<p>“I may have phrased it a little unfairly,” he said, “but I was being honest earlier, Wright. You truly do look dreadful. I understand that you’re on vacation and that can take a lot out of anybody, but <em>please</em> tell me you’re taking care of yourself.”</p>
<p>And how was he meant to respond to <em>that?</em></p>
<p>Definitely not by mentioning what he’d admitted to Layton last night, or the fact that he’d seriously considered dropping everything and walking into the mountains in the hopes that he would never be seen again, that his skeleton would be picked clean by the owls and nobody would ever stumble across the place he had frozen to death…</p>
<p>…the fact that he had come <em>this close</em> to abandoning his baby girl…</p>
<p>He couldn’t believe he had ever thought about something so awful.</p>
<p>“…I get by,” he decided to say. “I’m honestly more concerned about Trucy’s wellbeing than my own. I mean, why would I want to stop and think about someone as pathetic and hopeless as <em>me?</em>”</p>
<p>Ugh, and he could tell that Edgeworth was just trying to be polite, but he was bringing that up anyway and was probably just going to make a mess of things…</p>
<p>“Very well,” Edgeworth said simply. “I can tell that’s the best I’m going to get out of you.”</p>
<p>So he wasn’t going to prod any further. Thank <em>god</em>.</p>
<p>Time to ignore all of that and get back on track.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth,” Phoenix said, “I wish I could say I’m here just to catch up and have a nice pleasant chat over a cup of tea and scones or whatever the heck English people do when they hang out-”</p>
<p>“We’re in Scotland,” Edgeworth interjected, “so a teacake would be more appropriate.”</p>
<p>Miles Edgeworth. The man who never missed an opportunity to prove how much smarter he was than everybody else.</p>
<p>“<em>…however</em>,” Phoenix said as emphatically as he could, “I’m here on official business.”</p>
<p>“Official, you say?” Edgeworth eyed his friend with amusement. “Of the lawyerly variety, I presume? Do be careful, Wright. If anybody back home finds out what you’re doing, it shan’t end well for you <em>or</em> your daughter.”</p>
<p>“Well, <em>you</em> aren’t going to tell anybody, are you?” Phoenix pointed out.</p>
<p>“No,” said Edgeworth, “but only because I know you’re stubborn enough to genuinely be a good person. Believe me, Wright. Were you anybody else, I would prosecute you personally.”</p>
<p>“Good to know.” Phoenix tried not to chuckle at the promise. “Shame you aren’t a prosecutor right now though. Not now you’ve gone and got arrested for murder <em>again</em>.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“Like you’re one to talk,” he complained. “What with the first case where we faced each other and a certain trial I read about from a little under a decade ago, this incident now puts us on even footing. If you go and get yourself accused for a <em>third</em> time, I shall be supremely disappointed in you.”</p>
<p>Phoenix clapped a hand to his mouth. He couldn’t help but snort in laughter.</p>
<p>“Well, like it or not,” he said, fighting back his smile, “you’re actually involved in this one.”</p>
<p>His friend relaxed back into his chair.</p>
<p>“Am I now?” he asked. “Or have you just been told that by these simple-minded backwoods country bumpkins?”</p>
<p>“Nope, I know you are.” Nothing for it but to be honest, Phoenix told himself. “While I know for a fact that you didn’t have the means or opportunity…”</p>
<p>He glanced down at his evidence list. Sure, there wasn’t anything concrete, but he knew more than enough about how Edgeworth had been treated by the people in this village.</p>
<p>“I hate to say it, Edgeworth,” he said, “but you are just <em>swimming</em> in motive. I know by now that Ms Skellig was the one responsible for you being up on that mountain to begin with. It’s because of her that you were up there, freezing half to death every night and getting sent back up the moment you’d thawed out.”</p>
<p>He closed his journal and slipped it back into his hoodie.</p>
<p>“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but if someone did that to me, I’d probably feel like smashing an ice sculpture over their head too.”</p>
<p>“Am I to presume that was the cause of death?” Edgeworth asked.</p>
<p>Phoenix shrugged in response.</p>
<p>“Nothing’s confirmed,” he explained, “but the pool of blood at the crime scene was a) still wet when I got there and b) noticeably diluted. Definitely some water mixed in there. Not just that, but I’m pretty sure there was a struggle at the scene and quite a few of Ms Skellig’s sculptures got broken. We still haven’t found a murder weapon.”</p>
<p>Hopefully neither of those cops were listening in on this conversation. If it was discovered that Phoenix was feeding information about the crime directly to the prime suspect, he would be in for a <em>world</em> of trouble.</p>
<p>“Perhaps because it melted,” Edgeworth concluded. “You know, Wright, even when you’re making sense, your threads of logic still weave all over the bloody place.”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t avoid a bashful laugh.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m not sure saying the murder weapon melted under the victim’s residual body heat is going to go over so well in court,” he admitted.</p>
<p>“Ah, that reminds me.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth leaned in again, clearly suspicious that someone might be listening.</p>
<p>“I overheard those unsettling twins speaking with the mayor’s daughter,” he said in a low voice. “It seems she’s willing to let this case go to trial tomorrow morning.”</p>
<p>“Oh, thank <em>god</em>,” Phoenix sighed in relief.</p>
<p>“And she claims that when she sees me found guilty,” Edgeworth continued, “she shall slit my throat with her late mother’s chisel and watch my blood spill into the Sacred Well.”</p>
<p>Phoenix held himself back.</p>
<p>He needed a moment to figure out how to appropriately respond and not sound completely heartless.</p>
<p>“I was about to say ‘yikes’,” he said, “but honestly, that’s fair. She did just lose her mom, after all.”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” Edgeworth replied, leaning back. “Trust me, Wright. It’s a pain I understand all too well.”</p>
<p>Oh dear. It was definitely best not to open up <em>that</em> can of worms.</p>
<p>“Well,” Phoenix said to avoid the tangent, “much as I’d like to just hang around and reminisce about the good old days when <em>both</em> of us had jobs we’d been working our entire lives for, I’m afraid I have to ask you a few questions about Fatargan and what you know about it.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan.</p>
<p>“What sort of questions could you possibly ask?” he demanded bitterly. “I told you, didn’t I? I’ve spent half of my time in a hotel room and the other half on top of a mountain!”</p>
<p>“I know, I know!” Phoenix replied. “You’ve made that abundantly clear by now! But surely you must have learned <em>some </em>things during your time here, right?”</p>
<p>“What are you hoping I may somehow have learned?” asked Edgeworth. “The going rate of grape juice is pretty much non-existent, if that’s what you’re wondering.”</p>
<p>“No, I know that,” said Phoenix. “But what about the Painted King? And his horde that wander around the village at night?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth stared at Phoenix with a raised eyebrow that would have seemed coquettish if he didn’t know the man so well.</p>
<p>“What about them?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth, surely you must’ve realised those twins weren’t kidding when they arrested you,” Phoenix explained. “They believe that your negligence – and yes, I know you weren’t negligent at all, but bear with me – is what led to the mayor’s death because a spirit got into her house and attacked her! If I’m going to form a case to keep you out of prison, I need to know if that’s possible to begin with, got it?”</p>
<p>“Ah, right,” Edgeworth sighed. “I understand.”</p>
<p>He leaned back in his chair, looking like he wanted to slip off it and slide under the table.</p>
<p>“From what I can tell,” he began, “the Painted King is some deity these people worship, although I have yet to see any church, shrine or even idols, let alone people praying to them. You know the premise of Nineteen Eighty-Four, don’t you, Wright?”</p>
<p>Phoenix nodded, a little insulted that Edgeworth considered he might <em>not</em> know such a famous story.</p>
<p>“The people here speak of the Painted King as though he was a god,” Edgeworth continued, “but they honestly behave more like he’s Big Brother. Nobody worships him, nobody prays to him, but people swear by his name and are terrified by his supposed observation. The Painted King is watching you, so be careful you don’t attract the attention of the Spirit Police.”</p>
<p>All Phoenix could think of to do was stare at him.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth,” he said, “that just sounds like an amazing idea for a movie.”</p>
<p>“Ghost police officers?” Edgeworth somehow smiled. “Yes, that sounds like quite an interesting premise, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>And just like that, his smile vanished.</p>
<p>“However, I can’t say the spirits that haunt these mountains are good for anything except upsetting people.”</p>
<p>“Can you see them?” Phoenix asked. “The ghosts that haunt this place?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth rolled his eyes again.</p>
<p>“Oh Wright,” he groaned, “don’t tell me you buy into that hogwash as well!”</p>
<p>“It’s hard not to, Edgeworth,” Phoenix snapped. “I’m going to take that as a no, because if you’d seen even <em>half</em> of the things that I’ve seen, you would NOT have called it hogwash.”</p>
<p>“For heaven’s sake!” Edgeworth sighed. “Can you honestly tell me you believe Ms Skellig was murdered by a ghost?”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but hesitate.</p>
<p>How on earth was he supposed to respond to a question like that? Given everything he had seen concerning the supernatural, a ghost killing somebody wasn’t out of the question, but a crime like this? There <em>had</em> to be a person responsible!</p>
<p>But <em>who?!</em></p>
<p>Crap, Edgeworth was waiting. Maybe it would be best to just tell him what was on his mind.</p>
<p>“In my experience,” Phoenix said, “a spirit needs a body to possess if it wants to affect the physical world in any substantial way, but I didn’t see any sign of any person at the scene other than the Skelligs.”</p>
<p>He thought back to his little evidence list. Not even <em>one</em> thing he had found at the crime scene had given him a hint about the killer’s identity.</p>
<p>“The lack of fingerprints could be explained by gloves,” he thought aloud, “and there seems to have been a struggle, but that doesn’t prove that our killer was <em>dead</em>.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth, still with his arms crossed, tapped his finger on his arm.</p>
<p>“Wright,” he said, “there’s a possibility that you don’t seem to have considered.”</p>
<p>“And you’re going to offer it for free?” Phoenix asked. “Man, you <em>must</em> be sick.”</p>
<p>“I can tell you exactly who was in that office last night,” Edgeworth said, deliberately ignoring that remark and not even trying to hide it.</p>
<p>“Oh, come on!” Phoenix took that opportunity to roll his eyes right back. “Don’t mess with me like that! I <em>know</em> you were with us for the entire night!”</p>
<p>But even as he said that, he remembered that as of now, he had about as many leads as he did hopes of getting his job back.</p>
<p>“You know what?” He tossed his hands in the air. “Fine. Who was it?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth sighed again. Even he seemed to dislike what he was about to say.</p>
<p>“The woman herself,” he said. “Mayor Angela Skellig.”</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>.</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but stare. Was this guy really implying what he seemed to be implying?!</p>
<p>“…are you serious?” he asked.</p>
<p>“If you can think of any other possibilities,” said Edgeworth, “I would be delighted to hear them.”</p>
<p>“Edgeworth, the woman was bludgeoned to death!” Phoenix pointed out. “The photos I’ve seen show she took a hit to the back of the head! How could a wound like that possibly have been self-inflicted?!”</p>
<p>“You would be surprised at the lengths some people go to,” Edgeworth replied, “and how inventive they can be in regards to their own demise.”</p>
<p>It took all of Phoenix’s self-control not to fall forward and slam his face on the table between them.</p>
<p>“How would that explain the mess in her office?” he demanded. “Not to mention she came to our cottage before we found you, hours before she died, just to see if I was okay! And she was apparently totally normal! And when the Professor and I spoke to her a couple of days ago, she seemed like she was on top of everything!”</p>
<p>He sighed and pressed his fingers into his eyes.</p>
<p>He loved Edgeworth. The guy was his best friend and he wouldn’t give him up for anything. But good lord, could the guy ever be completely and utterly <em>exhausting </em>when he wanted to be.</p>
<p>“I know, okay?” he said. “You don’t always know what’s going on in someone’s head, you can never tell when someone’s actually suffering, yada-yada-yada. But I made sure I had this, okay?” He yanked his magatama out of his pocket and showed it to Edgeworth. “Nothing came up. As far as I could tell, she wasn’t trying to hide <em>anything</em> from me.”</p>
<p>“It’s still a hypothesis to keep on the table, Wright,” Edgeworth told him. “The office was locked from the inside and you didn’t find any prints except those of the victim and her beloved daughter? I’d be interested to know if <em>you </em>could think of any logical explanation.”</p>
<p>At least this provided an opportunity to see if he thought along the same lines as Luke.</p>
<p>“You don’t think it could’ve been that beloved daughter?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>“Ugh, surely you heard them talk about each other at least once, didn’t you?” asked Edgeworth. “Those two treasured each other. If the Painted King <em>is</em> some kind of religion, then the mayor was no doubt its leading preacher and her daughter her most famous follower. Neither would dare harm a hair on the other’s head.”</p>
<p>And the answer to that question had been a resounding <em>no</em>.</p>
<p>“Right,” said Phoenix. “Mayor’s daughter not a suspect. Got it.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth hit him with his smarmiest smirk.</p>
<p>“But if you turn out to be wrong-” Phoenix started in response.</p>
<p>“I know, I know,” said Edgeworth. “You’ll never let me live it down.”</p>
<p>“If you <em>do</em> turn out to be wrong,” Phoenix said, “I’ll make sure to keep you as updated as an autopsy report.”</p>
<p>“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Edgeworth tutted.</p>
<p>“So you’ve realised how ridiculous that actually was?” Phoenix couldn’t hold back another smile. “That you pulled that thing out of your ass for no reason other than to humiliate and mock me in the trial that surrounded my boss’s murder?”</p>
<p>The prosecutor slapped a hand to his forehead.</p>
<p>“…ridiculous…” he muttered.</p>
<p>“Hey, don’t worry,” Phoenix said. “I’m not going any further. I know better than to mock the infirm.”</p>
<p>“Pardon me, <em>infirm?!</em>” Edgeworth lowered his hand and glared at Phoenix in fury. “I’ll have you know I’ve made a full recovery from my ordeal last night!”</p>
<p>Phoenix sighed in frustration.</p>
<p>“But you still need to take it easy, alright?” he pointed out. “You scared me half to death already and I swear to god, if you contracted pneumonia last night-”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, you fool!” Edgeworth insisted. “Now for heaven’s sake, go back to that cottage and get some rest! Gather your thoughts together! I won’t have you representing me with your mind all over the bloody place!”</p>
<p>Phoenix clenched his jaw. No sooner had Edgeworth finished speaking than he felt a yawn coming on and he only <em>barely</em> avoided letting it out. On top of that, his eyes felt heavy and even though he’d had a glass of water barely an hour ago, his throat felt dry.</p>
<p>Hopefully Edgeworth hadn’t noticed. The last thing he wanted was to prove this guy right to his face.</p>
<p>Still, he wasn’t too proud to admit it.</p>
<p>“Maybe you’re right,” Phoenix decided. “Not to sound like <em>you</em> or anything, but I feel like I could really go for a cup of tea right now.”</p>
<p>“Then go and have some,” said Edgeworth. “You’ll be able to think better and keep a clearer mind when you aren’t exhausted.”</p>
<p>“Watch yourself there, Edgeworth,” Phoenix said. “You might actually convince me that you care about me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, just <em>go</em>,” Edgeworth groaned. “Before I get sick of the sight of you.”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay!” Phoenix sighed.</p>
<p>He shifted his chair back and stood up, leaned back, and listened to the bones and joints in his back and arms popping as he stretched them out.</p>
<p>Only twenty-eight years old and he already felt like he was getting too old for this.</p>
<p>Edgeworth was still watching him, Phoenix realised once he had finished stretching. Wow, that grey hoodie really didn’t suit him in the slightest. Sure, it was ugly anyway, but on a person as refined and sophisticated as the Demon Prosecutor, it looked downright <em>hideous</em>.</p>
<p>Not that Edgeworth seemed to care.</p>
<p>Phoenix sighed again as he relaxed his shoulders.</p>
<p>“I’m glad to see you’re okay,” he said. “Keep it together, alright?”</p>
<p>“Same to you,” said Edgeworth, and he looked up at Phoenix with concern, the likes of which he <em>never</em> saw from the man. “Take care of yourself, Wright. I know that’s an alien concept to you these days, but at least make a little bit of effort.”</p>
<p>Phoenix slipped his hands into his pockets.</p>
<p>“I will,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Much as he hated the thought of leaving Edgeworth alone in a place like this, he didn’t have a great deal of choice right now.</p>
<p>With one last wave of his fingers, he stepped out of the interrogation room and, hands in pockets again, hurried past the front desk and the redhead who sat at it and out of the police station.</p>
<p>Hopefully he could continue ignoring these creepy villagers and their staring long enough to retrieve his bags and hurry back across the bridge and to the cottage.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Spirit on the Doorstep part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The illustration is by the ever-wonderful meldy-arts!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Phoenix hopped from foot to foot until the door had swung open enough to dash inside, at which point he slammed the door behind him, dropped his and Trucy’s luggage under the coat hooks and heaved a sigh of relief.</p>
<p>Somehow a cloudless sky had made this place even <em>colder</em>.</p>
<p>He clenched his gloved hands in front of his mouth and breathed into them. There was only so much his gloves had been able to do to protect him from the breeze outside, and he couldn’t go around <em>everywhere</em> with his hands in his pockets. All he’d do was make himself look even more suspicious.</p>
<p>Thank goodness it was nice and warm in here. The Professor or Trucy must have turned the radiator on.</p>
<p>He pocketed his gloves and pulled off his jacket, and he hung it along with his hat on the hooks beside the front door.</p>
<p>Hopefully those cops wouldn’t come calling again, or else they’d see the Professor’s coat very conspicuously hanging there too. Quite frankly, the fact that they hadn’t noticed it the last time they were here was nothing short of <em>miraculous</em>.</p>
<p>Speaking of which, where had the Professor gone to? And Trucy, for that matter?</p>
<p>Probably hiding in the bathroom again. He hadn’t had any way of telling them he was returning, after all. They might have thought he was one of the villagers. This <em>did</em> seem like the sort of place where people kept their doors unlocked and anyone could drop in at any time for a cup of tea.</p>
<p>Up until now, at least. Considering the deaths in this village recently, it wouldn’t be surprising if they tightened up their security a bit.</p>
<p>Uh-oh. What if somebody actually <em>had</em> come by while he was gone?</p>
<p>It was probably fine, but he didn’t have any immediate way to tell.</p>
<p>Well, perhaps one.</p>
<p>He jogged over to the cupboard he had used earlier and opened it, and sighed in relief when he saw the case still there, tucked behind the tins. He nudged them aside and pulled the case out, knocking the cupboard closed with his hip once he had stood up.</p>
<p>The countertop? No, the dining table would be better. He didn’t want this thing anywhere near the sink.</p>
<p>He took the case to the dining table and laid it down so gently that he surprised himself with his own silence, and once he was sure it wasn’t going to slip off, he unlatched the lid and slowly, carefully, lifted it open.</p>
<p>“…<em>wow</em>…”</p>
<p>This violin was unlike anything he had ever seen. Its wood was black. A deep, rich black that he had never known a violin could be made of. He felt almost like he could reach his hand into it and see his fingers swallowed by darkness, and yet that darkness shined. It <em>gleamed</em>. That must have been the varnish Jack had mentioned.</p>
<p>Its silver strings sparkled in the pale light that trickled through the kitchen window, and Phoenix ran his fingers over the thin metal, unable to avoid another breathless sigh of amazement.</p>
<p>The bow was made of the same black wood as the violin and bore similar silver fixtures. Its strings were a shining, flawless white. Somehow he felt as though picking it up, just clasping it in his fingers, would imbue him with incredible magic powers. It would be the closest he ever came to wielding a real, powerful, honest-to-god magic wand.</p>
<p>Wow, this case even had rosin!</p>
<p>He pulled it out of its little indentation and unwrapped the cloth, revealing a cylinder of rich amber deeply indented in its top. So much use, yet it still looked fresh. Even its colour perfectly complimented the monochrome of the black violin and bow with its silver details.</p>
<p>Phoenix’s eye fell upon the bow again. He was glad he’d taken the time to loosen the strings last night. To have damaged such an implement would be absolutely <em>criminal</em>.</p>
<p>He pried it from its hooks as gently as he could and cradled it in his fingers. Sure enough, just touching it made his fingers tingle, goosebumps rushing up his arms and across his shoulders, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention.</p>
<p>And he hadn’t even tightened the strings…</p>
<p>…if that was something he was allowed to do…</p>
<p>…could he? Would it be okay if he gave it a whirl? Nobody in the village would be able to tell, would they? This cottage was one of the most isolated houses in Fatargan!</p>
<p>Yeah. Yeah, nobody would hear. Nobody would know. Not even the Professor or Trucy, who were nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>He laid the rosin on the table beside the case, just long enough to tighten the bow strings, and as soon as that was done, he drew said strings across the lump of amber.</p>
<p>Now that he’d prepared the bow, there was only one thing left to do with it…</p>
<p>He pulled the violin free of its plush velvet bedding. It was probably still tuned from last night. Not much to worry about there.</p>
<p>If the bow had filled his stomach with buzzing, the Silver Violin was something else entirely. He could swear his heart skipped a beat, every hair on his body stood on end, electricity flooded his veins and swirled around his head and all the way down to the tips of his toes and he had to clench his jaw and keep himself from shivering and not dropping it…</p>
<p>Just holding this thing made him feel more alive than he had felt in <em>years</em>.</p>
<p>Well, now that he had it in his hands, it would be a shame not to put it to use.</p>
<p>He propped the violin on his shoulder and nestled his cheek into the rest. The sensation was familiar and comfortable and warm, so <em>warm</em>, like a million hugs from his darling daughter or a fresh, hot cup of cocoa on a freezing cold night.</p>
<p>He took a deep breath. It had been a long time. He hoped he hadn’t lost his touch.</p>
<p>Nothing to it but to do it, right?</p>
<p>He rested the bow on the G string and drew it. Drew it all the way down the length of the bow. The tone was sweet, rich and soothing. The purest he had ever heard. His hair bristled and fingers crackled with electricity.</p>
<p>He adjusted the bow’s angle and drew it the other way, pulling it down, resting on the E note this time. The tone was higher, but just as perfect as the G.</p>
<p>No wonder he felt so alive. This thing must have been carved by angels!</p>
<p>He couldn’t help himself. He played his way up an entire octave.</p>
<p>Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do.</p>
<p>And back down again.</p>
<p>Do-ti-la-so-fa-mi-re-do.</p>
<p><em>Perfection</em>.</p>
<p>Phoenix almost felt dirty. He didn’t deserve to hold such a flawless instrument in his hands. Didn’t even deserve to be in the same room as such a thing.</p>
<p>But now that he did have it in his hands, he <em>had</em> to play something. He couldn’t let an opportunity like this just fly away.</p>
<p>The only question, of course, was of what he could play. With how long it had been, he wasn’t sure how many songs he could just tap out from memory.</p>
<p>Maybe something in here could…</p>
<p>Still holding the violin, he looked around the room, searching for some idea of what he could perform for himself. He didn’t know any songs involving dishwashing fluid or plates, chairs or coat hooks, nor did he know any songs about couches or teacups or-</p>
<p>-books?</p>
<p>Layton had left the book he’d been reading on the footstool they’d been using as a coffee table, his place marked with a soft-looking red ribbon for a bookmark. Its cover was dark, but Phoenix could see a splotch of white on the front.</p>
<p>He stood on tiptoe to read the title. <em>Le Fantôme de l'Opéra.</em></p>
<p>Phantom of the Opera, huh?</p>
<p>He could work with that. There were a few songs that popped into his head. That story was perfect for a little light music-</p>
<p>No. Not light music. <em>Night</em> music.</p>
<p>Yes, that was perfect!</p>
<p>Okay, so the first note was a D sharp, and then it went down, then back up again until there was a subtle rising melody, and Phoenix pulled the bow to and fro across the strings, unable to keep his eyes open as he lost himself to the bliss of the tune, and oh man, if he just quivered his finger like <em>this</em>…</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>…silently the senses abandon their defences, helpless to resist the notes I write…</p>
<p>…how was it possible that he had missed this <em>so much</em>…</p>
<p>…for I compose the music of the-</p>
<p>“AH!”</p>
<p>With an ugly screech of strings and a half-foot leap into the air, Phoenix whipped the bow and violin behind his back.</p>
<p>“Oh, my apologies,” Layton said calmly, either not noticing how alarmed Phoenix was or not caring. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”</p>
<p>“Professor, you- I don’t-” Phoenix couldn’t think of a single excuse. “How long have you been there?!”</p>
<p>“Only around a minute or so,” the Professor replied as he approached. “I somehow feel as if I should have realised you could play, given what I saw last night.”</p>
<p>Phoenix backed away even though Layton was still half a room from where he stood.</p>
<p>“…what did you see?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I noticed you loosening the bow strings before you put it back in the case,” Layton explained happily. “Most people wouldn’t know to do that if they were unfamiliar with violins and how to care for them.”</p>
<p>Every instinct on Phoenix’s body screamed at him to back away further, but he still had the violin in his hand and he didn’t want to crush it against the wall. He fixed himself on the spot. Didn’t move a muscle.</p>
<p>He had gone from his entire body tingling to his entire face burning in less than a second.</p>
<p>“Where’s Trucy?” he asked, desperate to talk about <em>anything</em> else.</p>
<p>“Sleeping.” Layton paused in his approach (thank <em>god</em>) and looked back over his shoulder at the bedrooms behind him. “The poor dear couldn’t stop yawning, so I persuaded her to take an afternoon nap.”</p>
<p>He looked back at Phoenix with a coy little smile.</p>
<p>“Up until that point, she proved herself quite the teacher,” he said. “I’m now almost as proficient at lock-picking as she is.”</p>
<p>“She’s been okay?”</p>
<p>“She’s been an absolute angel, Phoenix. You’re a very lucky man.”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s attempts to awkwardly fidget with the violin only resulted in an accidental twang of a string that cut through his ears like a knife.</p>
<p>He saw the Professor glance down in the violin’s direction and then back up at Phoenix in a very distinct “what are you doing?” way.</p>
<p>“…and Luke?” Phoenix asked to keep him distracted.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes.” Oh, thank goodness it <em>worked</em>. “I had wondered about that. He returned saying that he’d been sick and because of that, you had sent him home.”</p>
<p>The way Layton cupped his chin was thoughtful, but Phoenix got the feeling he was being glared at with the fury of a thousand suns.</p>
<p>“Do you think you could tell me what happened?” the Professor requested. “His father will never forgive me if I return his son with some terrible illness.”</p>
<p>“More blood at the crime scene than we expected,” Phoenix said quickly. “It got a bit much for him. Had to send him back before he puked his guts out all over the place and contaminated the hell out of it.”</p>
<p>Layton nodded in gratitude.</p>
<p>“I understand,” he said, and his eyes wandered in thought. “It’s strange. In all the time I’ve known him, he’s never shown himself to be haemophobic. I suppose the aversion must have developed during his time on your side of the pond.”</p>
<p>He gave Phoenix a smile.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t seem to have affected his appetite, however,” he said happily. “He’s off to the grocers’ to collect scones and jam for afternoon tea as we speak.”</p>
<p>“Good,” Phoenix said. “I’m glad he’s okay.”</p>
<p>Oh no, the Professor was still trying to see behind him, wasn’t he? Phoenix’s face was already on fire right up to his hairline, he did <em>not</em> need it to get any hotter, but putting the violin away meant bringing it out of hiding and admitting that he had taken it out and tried playing it…</p>
<p>Crap. Layton was staring right at him. He’d noticed that Phoenix was embarrassed!</p>
<p>“Phoenix, I’m curious,” he said calmly. “How long have you been playing?”</p>
<p>Phoenix seized up.</p>
<p>There wasn’t any way of getting out of this now, was there? He <em>had</em> to spill the tea whether he liked it or not. Guys like Professor Layton didn’t give up on their curiosities easily, after all.</p>
<p>He sighed. Time to admit defeat.</p>
<p>“…about…” He finally brought the violin and its bow back into view. “I think nine years, give or take a month.”</p>
<p>He rested the Silver Violin on the table as gently as he could.</p>
<p>“This is going to sound dumb,” he said reluctantly, “but I picked it up because I thought it would impress my girlfriend.”</p>
<p>True to form, the Professor laughed, yet Phoenix somehow didn’t get the sensation of being laughed at that he often did in circumstances like these.</p>
<p>“That doesn’t sound silly at all!” Layton told him. “You must tell me more. I never even knew that you had a girlfriend.”</p>
<p>He quirked a playful eyebrow in Phoenix’s direction.</p>
<p>“Did it work?” he asked.</p>
<p>Phoenix felt himself freeze up again.</p>
<p>Was the Professor really not going to make fun of him? He wanted to know <em>more</em> about this?!</p>
<p>Would it actually be safe to talk to him about it?</p>
<p>Maybe… considering what had happened last night, maybe it would be okay…</p>
<p>Crap, he’d just been standing here in silence!</p>
<p>“Kind of.” Phoenix realised he had spoken far too quickly and gave a nervous chuckle. “She enjoyed my playing at least.”</p>
<p>Layton moved closer, eyes fixed on the violin. Hard to blame him for wanting a better look at something so extraordinary.</p>
<p>“After we broke up, I tried to keep going,” Phoenix explained. “Always practised in secret after I passed the bar because I knew Maya would make fun of me if she found out. Don’t tell anyone, but I held onto the violin I’d been given for my classes in college. Nobody ever tried to claim it, so I thought, why not?”</p>
<p>He gently positioned the bow beside the violin.</p>
<p>“You seem to treat the Silver Violin with quite an amount of reverence,” Layton remarked. “One would think that you hadn’t seen a violin in quite some time. Do you no longer have that college provision you used at home?”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s heart twinged with regret.</p>
<p>It had been such a nice instrument. Perfectly polished maple and spruce, shimmering nylon threads…</p>
<p>“How do you think I was able to afford this trip?” he asked.</p>
<p>Any hint of a smile fell from Layton’s face.</p>
<p>“Ah,” he said. “I see.”</p>
<p>And then it came back.</p>
<p>“That’s quite a pity,” he told Phoenix, “given how beautifully you play.”</p>
<p>The fire flooded back to Phoenix’s cheeks.</p>
<p>“I…” Uh-oh, what the hell was he supposed to say now?! “I, um…” He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know about ‘beautifully’.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense!” the Professor said cheerfully. “I could have sworn you had played your entire life, or at the very least, for as long as I have.”</p>
<p>“<em>You</em> play…” Phoenix cut himself off. “What am I saying? Of course you play violin.”</p>
<p>He probably hadn’t even needed to say that. This man just emitted powerful violinist energy. Probably pianist as well, now that he stopped to think about it.</p>
<p>Phoenix picked up the violin and held it out.</p>
<p>“How about showing me how much better you are than me?” he asked.</p>
<p>Layton looked from the violin to Phoenix’s face.</p>
<p>“You wish me to play for you?” he realised. “Without any sheet music?”</p>
<p>“Surely a guy like you memorised a couple of songs, right?” Phoenix pointed out.</p>
<p>Although he was very obviously hesitant, the Professor took the Silver Violin into his hands.</p>
<p>“Oh dear,” he said, cradling the instrument, “I’m… hmm.”</p>
<p>He picked up the bow and shouldered the violin.</p>
<p>“Let me see what I can remember,” he said. “Perhaps…”</p>
<p>And then he put the bow to the strings and began to play.</p>
<p>Phoenix felt as though an icicle had smashed into his face. The tune Layton played was rapid - no, the word was staccato, wasn’t it? - and while Phoenix didn’t recognise it, he got a sudden feeling of cold, of wind, of a chilling breeze blowing through his hair and snowflakes stinging his cheeks and he glanced to the door to check that it hadn’t blown open…</p>
<p>This man had seriously been uncertain about remembering the tune?! He played it like it had been baked into his mind!</p>
<p>All Phoenix could do was stand there and watch, breathless, as the Professor slowed the melody and tapered out with one final, chilling note.</p>
<p>He lowered the bow and looked up at Phoenix, obviously searching for a reaction.</p>
<p>“…whoa…” was all Phoenix could say, breathless in amazement.</p>
<p>The Professor gave him a smile.</p>
<p>“I’ll take that as a sign of approval,” he said happily, and he rested the violin down on the table again. “I’m not quite as proficient with a violin as I am with a piano, but I like to think that I possess at least some degree of skill.”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding?!” Phoenix spluttered. “That was awesome!”</p>
<p>A glow of red flushed across Layton’s cheeks.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he said bashfully as he laid the bow down. “I’m afraid that most of the tunes I know are those you may not recognise.”</p>
<p>“Oh, really?” Phoenix said indignantly. “Try me.”</p>
<p>He crossed his arms and gave Layton his sassiest smirk.</p>
<p>“Well, just as an example…” The Professor held up his fingers to count on. “That was a section of Winter from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, from which I also know Spring and Summer. I can play the solo from Danse Macabre as well as Air on the G String, plus Tchaikovsky’s Flower Dance and a few other tunes from The Nutcracker- oh, I know Greensleeves and The Girl with the Flaxen Hair, and several pieces that are all named Ave Maria, which seems to be a very popular title…”</p>
<p>He finally trailed off, cupping his chin in thought.</p>
<p>“Hmm, that may be all the classical tunes that I could play off the top of my head,” he added. “If only because those tend to be the most popular.”</p>
<p>“<em>All</em> you could play?” Phoenix knew he was staring, but he didn’t care. “Professor, that is a <em>lot!</em>”</p>
<p>“It’s hardly the greatest catalogue in the world,” said Layton, “but I suppose it’s something.”</p>
<p>He ran his fingers down the silvery strings.</p>
<p>“How about you?” he asked. “I believe what you played just now may have been a tune from The Phantom of the Opera.”</p>
<p>“It was,” Phoenix replied. “Music of the Night, to be specific, because I noticed your book and it reminded me…”</p>
<p>He sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead.</p>
<p>“God, I feel really inadequate now!” he complained. “You just rattled off a list of famous classical tunes and the stuff I know is everything <em>but</em> classical!”</p>
<p>“Would you care to elaborate?” asked Layton. “You’ll find that quite a lot of music can be counted as ‘not classical’ so your classification doesn’t narrow it down by much.”</p>
<p>“Well, you know!” Phoenix waved his hand around, searching for a reply that wouldn’t make him look like an absolute pleb. “Pop, rock, top 40s, movie soundtracks, game soundtracks, musical soundtracks, anime opening and closing themes, TV show soundtracks…”</p>
<p>He lowered his hand. All it was doing was making him look even more idiotic.</p>
<p>“You know,” he said. “That sort of stuff, though I’m not sure how much I could play without any sheet music. You probably wouldn’t want me to anyway. It’s all the genres you don’t care about.”</p>
<p>To his amazement, Layton smiled at him again.</p>
<p>“You’d be surprised,” he said happily. “I’ve found that a great deal of effort goes into the composing of popular culture these days, and I’ll confess to a guilty pleasure or two that may have topped the charts in decades past.”</p>
<p>He hesitated just long enough for his latest blush to fade.</p>
<p>“Would you care to give me another demonstration?”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s heart skipped a beat again. A cold flush of horror flooded down his spine in contrast to the heat that rose to his cheeks.</p>
<p>“You…” His fingers twitched uncontrollably. “You want me to play for you?”</p>
<p>“If you wouldn’t mind, and if you can remember something, then yes.” The Professor leaned casually against the table. “I would love to be serenaded by the legendary Phoenix Wright.”</p>
<p>“Cut that out!” cried Phoenix.</p>
<p>But since it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to fend off Layton with complaints alone, he slowly and carefully picked up the violin and its bow.</p>
<p>“…okay, I…” Now all he had to do was figure out what to play. “…I do remember a few things, let me think…”</p>
<p>He ran through his personal discography in his mind, searching for something that would end up Layton-approved.</p>
<p>Anime themes? No, not a chance. The Professor was far too classy for that. He deserved something with a bit more pomp and circumstance than that.</p>
<p>Damn. If only he knew Pomp and Circumstance.</p>
<p>TV themes? No, classier still. Film themes? That could work. There were plenty of fantastic, symphony orchestra-played movie soundtracks that he could easily play and that the Professor would enjoy listening to.</p>
<p>Maybe something light and cheerful… something to brighten the mood after such a long, exhausting few days…</p>
<p>He knew just the song.</p>
<p>Phoenix pressed the bow to the strings and the moment he had stroked out the first three notes, he suddenly felt right at home.</p>
<p>The tune was such a wonderful contrast to what the Professor had played. It was light, pleasant and reassuring. A melody he loved to listen to, even outside the film it had been composed for, because just hearing it suddenly made him feel like, wherever he was, he was <em>safe</em>.</p>
<p>After the first few bars, it dipped down and seemed to get a little sadder, but it was all in the service of the tune’s greater scope, so he picked it up again. The longer he played, the more soothed and comfortable he felt.</p>
<p>This song made him want to hug something. Or someone.</p>
<p>Maybe Layton would oblige… no. Maybe not.</p>
<p>It was funny how such a seemingly simple sequence of quick notes could do so much to lift his spirits. Somewhere inside, he felt <em>warm</em>.</p>
<p>He lifted the melody’s pitch, raising it to its head and playing out the final few notes to bring the tune to a close.</p>
<p>He hadn’t even noticed himself closing his eyes – <em>wow</em>, he had been lost – but when he opened them, it was to see that Layton was watching him in wide-eyed, unrestrained awe.</p>
<p>Phoenix lowered the violin as quickly as he could.</p>
<p>“I, um…” Oh god, why had he gone along with this? “…I don’t know if you recognise that one.”</p>
<p>“I don’t, but…” The Professor apparently realised how he had looked and pulled back his composure. “It was quite lovely. Such a light tune, rather cheerful in fact, and yet one gets a distinct sense of melancholy from its melody. Might I ask which soundtrack it was derived from?”</p>
<p>So it was that obvious, was it?</p>
<p>“Uh, yeah, you might.” Phoenix put the bow down as well. “Lord of the Rings. The first one. It’s the tune that plays in the prologues, though I think they’re only in the extended edition, when Bilbo is talking and writing about hobbits and Hobbiton and…”</p>
<p>He trailed off. He wouldn’t do anybody any favours by rambling.</p>
<p>“…that stuff,” he finished.</p>
<p>“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Phoenix,” Layton said far too kindly. “You have a wonderful skill to your name.”</p>
<p>“I know, I know I’m pretty good, but I…”</p>
<p>Phoenix pressed his hands to his face again. He could tell he had turned bright red. Why could he just not stop humiliating himself?</p>
<p>“Ever since what happened with Dahlia, my girlfriend, I don’t really…” Ugh, even saying her name made him feel dirty. “I’m not comfortable playing in front of other people. I think I should’ve said that before.”</p>
<p>Layton blinked in shock.</p>
<p>“Why yes, you certainly should have!” he exclaimed. “Had I known, I would never have made such cruel demands of you!”</p>
<p>“It’s not cruel!” Phoenix argued back. “It was just a bit, uh…” He scratched the back of his head again, no doubt messing up his hair even more. “…weird. I haven’t played in the same room as another person in years, let alone played <em>for</em> someone. D-don’t tell Edgeworth about this, alright? He’ll just laugh at me!”</p>
<p>The Professor gave him a polite tip of the hat.</p>
<p>“A gentleman never reveals a friend’s secrets, Phoenix,” he said with a smile. “You have my word.”</p>
<p>Phoenix caught himself and avoided shying away.</p>
<p>“…thanks,” he said instead.</p>
<p>Layton reached down and gently ran his fingers over the plush velvet that lined the inside of the case.</p>
<p>“I confess that it’s quite sad that you feel the need to keep your talent a secret in the first place,” he said, “but I understand your reasoning.”</p>
<p>He rubbed his fingertips together. No doubt the velvet had felt strange and dry to touch.</p>
<p>“Just know that there is no shame in being shy,” he told Phoenix. “All of us suffer performance anxiety from time to time.”</p>
<p>Phoenix snorted. The Professor didn’t have any idea how what he’d just said sounded, did he?</p>
<p>Best not to bring it up. He’d just be embarrassed.</p>
<p>“You definitely don’t,” Phoenix pointed out. “You just snatched up that violin and hammered out Vivaldi like it was nothing!”</p>
<p>Layton gave a nervous laugh.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t know about ‘snatching’ the violin up,” he said, “but I like to think of myself as proficient.” He made a small, playful bow. “Should you require further demonstration, I would be delighted to provide it.”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to stop you,” Phoenix shrugged. “Go for it. Come on, Professor. Show me what you’re made of.”</p>
<p>With a smile of determination, the Professor picked up the bow.</p>
<p>But as he was reaching for the violin, he hesitated.</p>
<p>“Under one condition.”</p>
<p>Phoenix swallowed. He didn’t like where this was going.</p>
<p>“What is it?” he asked.</p>
<p>Layton took up the violin and balanced it on his arm.</p>
<p>“I believe it safe to say that we are officially friends, Phoenix,” he stated. “You needn’t be so formal with me anymore. Just ‘Hershel’ is fine.”</p>
<p>For some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, Phoenix felt his face flush again.</p>
<p>“I…” Was this how Luke felt when he was playing with his coat toggles? “I don’t know, um… I’ve thought of you as ‘The Professor’ for so long, so to just go straight to first names for both of us feels…” He cleared his throat. “It’s pretty weird.”</p>
<p>The smile Layton gave him was far more patient and understanding than he deserved.</p>
<p>“If you wish, then you’re welcome to address me by surname,” he suggested. “I’ve been ‘Layton’ to many of my contemporaries for quite some time now.”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t avoid a sigh of relief. </p>
<p>“Okay then,” he said. “Layton it is. Are you going to play for me or what?”</p>
<p>That had come out ruder than he had expected, but the Professor thankfully laughed it off.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” he chuckled. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”</p>
<p>He put the bow to the strings and began to play.</p>
<p>Phoenix was instantly enamoured. The tune was playful, the notes not so much flowing into one another as sweeping and giving him the urge to get up and dance.</p>
<p>He swore he had heard this melody before, but it sounded as though it was some kind of jig. A tune one would play when trying to encourage their compatriots to stand on tables and dance while those around them cheered and quaffed and…</p>
<p>…no, hang on.</p>
<p>No, wait a minute, he <em>knew</em> this tune.</p>
<p>Layton continued playing, keeping his soft smile the entire way through as he enjoyed the music he produced, but that music had Phoenix stunned as the notes swept over and around him, penetrating deep enough for him to recognise.</p>
<p>By the time he was done, the Professor had only gone as far as the end of the first stanza, which Phoenix was rather thankful for. Any more and he would have smacked the violin out of Layton’s hands and demanded an explanation.</p>
<p>Layton, however, just lowered that violin.</p>
<p>“So?” he said expectantly. “What’s my verdict?”</p>
<p>Phoenix realised his jaw was hanging open and he quickly snapped it shut.</p>
<p>“I thought you said you only knew classical?” he pointed out.</p>
<p>“I didn’t claim it was the <em>only</em> genre I knew tunes from,” Layton responded.</p>
<p>“Don’t get clever with me!” Phoenix held himself back from an instinctual accusatory point. “I know rock when I hear it and that was Queen! Professor Layton just played <em>Queen</em> on the violin!”</p>
<p>The Professor just gave him that same enigmatic smile he always did.</p>
<p>“I am an Englishman, Phoenix,” he said with a tip of the hat. “Did you somehow expect me <em>not</em> to admire the music of Mr Mercury and co.?”</p>
<p>Phoenix hesitated.</p>
<p>He couldn’t figure out anything to say that wouldn’t make him look like an idiot.</p>
<p>“…I don’t know what I expected,” he decided to say.</p>
<p>Again, when Layton laughed, Phoenix didn’t get that sense of mocking that he had grown so used to in the days since he’d been disbarred.</p>
<p>If anything, the sound was rather comforting.</p>
<p>This time, when the Professor offered him the violin, it somehow didn’t grip him with that sense of awkward apprehension.</p>
<p>“Is it possible that you could muster the courage to play for me again?” he politely requested. “I understand your hesitation, but I find your style of playing to be quite enjoyable.”</p>
<p>The nerves began to set in again as Phoenix took the Silver Violin from Layton’s fingers.</p>
<p>“I…” Why had he become so anxious all of a sudden? “I think I’ve got one more in me, let me see…”</p>
<p>He threw his mind back to his lessons as he took the bow. Something with a relatively simple melody would probably be best, but not one of the silly little nursery rhymes he’d played right at the very beginning. Professor Layton was far too mature for tunes like that.</p>
<p>There was <em>one</em> tune that came to mind…</p>
<p>“Okay, there’s one I know from way back,” he told the Professor. “It’s called ‘Sisters’. One of the tunes I was taught when I was first learning. I always thought it was pretty fun and, um…”</p>
<p>There wasn’t any point in making Layton wait. Nothing to it but to do it, right?</p>
<p>He took a deep breath, rested the bow on the strings again and began to play.</p>
<p>He’d loved this tune ever since the first time he had heard it. It was so sweet and comforting, yet at the same time, it was upbeat and peppy. Even when he wasn’t the one who was playing it, just hearing the first few notes was enough to put a smile on his face.</p>
<p>For some reason that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the melody always made him think of Maya. His late boss’ little sister, Maya Fey, whom he had come to think of as a sister of his own, who drove him insane with both annoyance and worry and who he hadn’t seen even once in the years since he had lost his badge. She’d come to see him a few days after he took Trucy in and <em>that was it.</em></p>
<p>Where was she now, he wondered? Meditating, perhaps. Training to better control the spirits she summoned and channelled. Maybe she was playing with Pearls and her ball, or maybe the two of them were meditating together. Maybe they were even in the city, sightseeing and having fun and spending far more money than was good for them.</p>
<p>Were they better off without Phoenix?</p>
<p>Without seeing what they were up to, he had no way of knowing.</p>
<p>So long as neither of them were anywhere near snowy mountains or icy caves, they were surely going to be-</p>
<p>“Professor?”</p>
<p>“GYAH!” Phoenix screamed again and turned his back to the front door, holding the violin out of the newcomer’s view and struggling not to grip it too tightly.</p>
<p>“Ah! Mr Wright!” The front door closed, but Phoenix rigidly remained where he was. “I’m sorry! Was I interrupting something?!”</p>
<p>“It’s alright, Luke,” Phoenix heard Layton say. “Nobody got hurt. Phoenix and I were just having a little fun with the Silver Violin.”</p>
<p>Phoenix swallowed hard. Why the heck had the Professor said that?!</p>
<p>“I’m not sure what you could’ve achieved,” Luke said as he approached. “I checked out the village through this stone the whole way back and I didn’t see anything!”</p>
<p>“I can’t say I’m surprised,” said Layton, and Phoenix saw a paper bag being rested on the dining table near the violin case. “We are in the middle of the day, after all. Didn’t your research claim that the spirits only emerge at night?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I suppose,” Luke replied. “I had been wondering if that was accurate, so I wanted to check…”</p>
<p>The boy fell silent, and the prickling on the back of Phoenix’s neck told him that silence was because he was being stared at.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” said Luke. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Hm?” It took a moment for the words to register. “Oh! Oh, yes! I’m fine! I’m fine, I swear, let me…” Phoenix tugged the open case closer. “…let me just… put this…”</p>
<p>He gently pressed the Silver Violin into its case, loosened the bow strings so they didn’t threaten to snap and hooked it on the inside of the lid before slipping the lump of rosin back into its slot.</p>
<p>“Are you okay now, Luke?” he asked, and he closed and fastened the case’s lid. “Feeling better?”</p>
<p>“Much better,” Luke sighed, and when Phoenix looked up at him, he was relieved to see a lack of green in the boy’s cheeks. “Thank you for sending me home, Mr Wright. I’m not sure how much longer I could have handled all that blood.”</p>
<p>“Did you brush your teeth?” asked Layton.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Luke replied. “Of course I did.”</p>
<p>“Then perhaps you could solve a puzzle for me.”</p>
<p>“Maybe. What’s the puzzle?”</p>
<p>“It’s quite a fascinating brain-teaser, Luke. The Mystery of the Bone-Dry Toothbrush.”</p>
<p>“…oh.”</p>
<p>Phoenix slapped his hand over his mouth so that neither of them heard him laughing. Was Luke the Professor’s apprentice or his put-upon son?</p>
<p>“I’m not letting you have any of those scones until you brush your teeth, young man,” Layton said sternly. “Now go and take care of it.”</p>
<p>Luke sighed <em>hard</em>.</p>
<p>“Fine,” he groaned.</p>
<p>Withdrawing stomping footsteps told Phoenix that Luke had departed for the bathroom, and he waited to relax until he heard the door close.</p>
<p>“Phoenix?” said Layton. “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah,” Phoenix sighed, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m okay. He just caught me off guard.”</p>
<p>He pressed one hand to his chest and took a deep breath. He felt like by the time this vacation was over, he would have suffered at least five heart attacks.</p>
<p>“If it makes you feel any better,” said the Professor, “I’m sure that if you were to play for Luke or Trucy to hear, they will certainly enjoy it.”</p>
<p>“…maybe,” was all Phoenix could think of to say in response.</p>
<p>A click and soft squeak of hinges drew his attention to the bedroom doors, through one of which, he was being observed by a sweet little round face.</p>
<p>“Daddy?” She stepped out into the hallway, her hair all mussed on one side.</p>
<p>“Hey, Trucy-Goosy,” Phoenix said in his gentlest voice. “Did I wake you?”</p>
<p>Trucy rubbed the dust out of her eye.</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t really sleep,” she said. “I don’t think I was tired enough, but thank you for getting me to nap, Professor.” The girl who wasn’t tired enough yawned wide and loud. “I feel way more awake now.”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but laugh at her.</p>
<p>“You sure about that?” he asked.</p>
<p>Once she was done rubbing her eyes, Trucy looked between the two men who stood at the dining table.</p>
<p>“Were you guys playing music?” she asked.</p>
<p>For what had to have been the billionth time that day, Phoenix felt his face getting hot.</p>
<p>“…um…” he said hesitantly.</p>
<p>“We were just admiring the Silver Violin,” Layton told her. “My apologies, Trucy. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”</p>
<p>Before anybody else got a chance to speak, Luke emerged from the bathroom, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.</p>
<p>“Okay, I brushed my teeth,” he reported. “Mr Wright, what did you find out while I was gone?”</p>
<p>Phoenix took this opportunity to, at long last, sit down at the dining table.</p>
<p>“I can’t confirm anything,” he said as the rest of his compatriots joined him, “but my suspicion is that Ms Skellig was bludgeoned to death with an ice sculpture that melted under what was left of her body heat. Luke, do you still have those photos?”</p>
<p>“Oh! Yes!” Luke jumped up from his chair. “Hang on a moment!”</p>
<p>He found his satchel, buried under Phoenix’s hoodie, and dug out the photos they’d been given. He ran back to the table and slapped them down for all to see with a cry of “Here you go!”</p>
<p>Phoenix twisted them around so that they were visible to all.</p>
<p>“What do you think, Layton?” he asked.</p>
<p>The Professor stroked his chin as he peered down at the photos. One of Angela, long dead, her glazed eyes staring emptily at the ceiling. Luke, of course, averted his eyes at the sight of the blood pooling around her head.</p>
<p>His eyes flickered to the second photo. The close-up of the broken watch that showed when she had died.</p>
<p>“The bloodstain does look rather watered down,” he commented. “I notice there appears to have been a scuffle. What’s the relevance?”</p>
<p>“Can’t say,” Phoenix said with a shrug.</p>
<p>Luke stifled a soft belch.</p>
<p>“If the murder weapon was an ice sculpture,” he said, “that means the killing might not have been premeditated. The killer could have just gone into the office for a meeting and attacked her in a fit of rage.”</p>
<p>“Ah,” said the Professor, holding up a teacherly finger, “but there is another possibility, my boy. What if the murderer already knew that Ms Skellig possessed items they could use to commit the crime, meaning they didn’t have to worry about bringing a weapon with them?”</p>
<p>Luke opened his mouth to speak, but shut it just as quickly.</p>
<p>“…that’s…” He pressed a finger to his chin. “…that’s actually possible.”</p>
<p>Trucy squinted down at the photo of the watch, and Phoenix resisted the urge to embarrass himself by snatching the other one away.</p>
<p>“The clock’s upside down, I can’t read it,” she complained. “What time did she die last night? Was it before Uncle Miles went up the mountain?”</p>
<p>“Nope,” said Phoenix. “9:52pm. See? Her watch broke when she hit the floor. Edgeworth was already on the couch by then.”</p>
<p>“Those creepy twins said she was killed by a ghost, didn’t they?” asked Trucy. “Do you think that could even be possible?”</p>
<p>Phoenix shrugged again.</p>
<p>“Can’t say anything about that either,” he replied. “I don’t know enough about ghosts.”</p>
<p>“We, uh…”</p>
<p>Luke rubbed his sweater between his fingers.</p>
<p>“…we took a look in her safe as well,” he said. “We managed to open the door and, um…”</p>
<p>And then he told the Professor and Trucy every last detail about what they had found in Ms Skellig’s safe, barring the journal that Phoenix had taken almost as an afterthought. By the time he had finished, Trucy had her hands clapped to her mouth and her eyes wide in horror, and Layton, while significantly more restrained, seemed equally as shocked by the truth.</p>
<p>“My word!” he gasped.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig framed the Professor?” asked Trucy in disbelief. “<em>And</em> Dr Wallace?!”</p>
<p>“You know what they say about Occam’s Razor,” Phoenix said numbly. “Her being responsible seems like the most likely outcome, so it’s probably what happened.”</p>
<p>“Just thinking about that awl is making me nauseous again.” Luke pressed his hand to his stomach. “Poor Mr Oldfart. You guys did say it looked like he’d been attacked by someone he trusted. I guess… I guess you were right.”</p>
<p>The Professor took his top hat from his head and held it to his chest, his head bowed and eyes solemn. Phoenix almost felt surprised; it looked like he’d come to regret suggesting sending Mrs Oldfart down for her husband’s murder. Either that or… no, a gentleman like him would probably have never been serious about it to begin with.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth told me we’re clear for a trial,” Phoenix reported. “I can’t imagine the pain Ms Michaela might be going through, but at the very least, it seems like she’s prepared to give us a chance.”</p>
<p>“I’m surprised she didn’t make him swear to silence in the name of the Painted King,” Trucy said sulkily.</p>
<p>“Yeah, uh…” Phoenix glanced around awkwardly. “…about that.”</p>
<p>With that, he told the three of them all the information he had gathered from questioning both Jack and Edgeworth. Everything either of them knew about the Painted King and Ms Skellig’s involvement in his supposed reign over the village of Fatargan, and how that reign was what led Jack to be complicit in the abduction of Edgeworth to begin with.</p>
<p>Even before he had finished talking, Layton had his hand on his chin again.</p>
<p>“The plot thickens,” he said softly.</p>
<p>Luke had taken off his cap as well, but instead of pressing it to his chest, he wrung it around in his hands like he was kneading pizza dough.</p>
<p>“I hate to say it…” He grimaced at his own thoughts. “I <em>really</em> hate to say it, but I think I see why someone might have wanted to kill Ms Skellig, even- no, especially Mr Edgeworth.”</p>
<p>“If any person in this village had learned of her manipulations,” said Layton, “it would be hard to name any person in Fatargan, native or not, who <em>wouldn’t</em> have a motive.”</p>
<p>“Now I’m super glad I didn’t meet her,” said Trucy with a grimace rivalling Luke’s. “She sounds horrible!”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Truce.” Phoenix patted her on the head. “She won’t be able to hurt you.”</p>
<p>“We’re in a haunted village, Mr Wright,” Luke pointed out. “Are you sure about that?”</p>
<p>Trucy squealed in fright and grabbed her dad’s shirt.</p>
<p>“Hey!” Phoenix objected. “Don’t scare my daughter like that!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry!” Luke squeaked and clutched his hat to his chest.</p>
<p>“So where does this leave us?” asked the Professor. “How do we proceed from this point?”</p>
<p>Phoenix found himself mimicking Layton’s movements. He rubbed his chin, running his fingers over the rough layer of stubble that he never found time to shave, and processed everything that had happened today through his mind.</p>
<p>It was enough.</p>
<p>It <em>had</em> to be enough.</p>
<p>“I think I’ll be able to mount a decent defence with everything I’ve learned,” he told the group. “If I can convince the court that Ms Skellig wasn’t the angel they thought she was, I’m sure we’ll be able to make the judge understand how Edgeworth can’t be held responsible. <em>Anyone</em> could have been the killer. I just have to prove it.”</p>
<p>Luke nodded and Layton smiled, but Trucy didn’t look anywhere near so sure.</p>
<p>“Um, Daddy?” she said nervously. “I’m not sure how well that’ll work. Going by what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen, the judges don’t like it when you can’t provide an actual culprit.”</p>
<p>Oh. Oh dear.</p>
<p>“Is that why you were pushing so hard against Mrs Oldfart yesterday, Mr Wright?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Phoenix admitted. “I hate to say it, but that’s how it usually goes. The way judges see it, it doesn’t matter who’s guilty so long as <em>someone</em> goes to prison.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” asked the rather alarmed Professor. “That sounds terribly unethical!”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but sigh.</p>
<p>“It really is a dark age of the law, huh,” he said to himself.</p>
<p>“At least the trials here don’t end like they do in Labyrinthia,” Luke pointed out, and he shuddered at the horrific memory.</p>
<p>“I’m so glad I wasn’t there,” said Trucy. “I feel like I’d have nightmares for the rest of my life after that!”</p>
<p>“Indeed,” Layton agreed. “Witnessing such trials was quite, <em>quite</em> dreadful. Thank goodness this village doesn’t operate on a similar system. I’d hate to imagine any person, even a criminal, being sent out into the snow for the elements to claim them.”</p>
<p>He narrowed his eyes in Phoenix’s direction.</p>
<p>If he was going to be honest, Phoenix couldn’t blame him for his suspicion or frustration. He’d been an absolute <em>asshole </em>from the moment they’d met on that train, and killing himself and abandoning his daughter would not only be terrible in general, but also a tremendous dick move. Layton was more than entitled to his annoyance.</p>
<p>“…yeah,” he said. “Still, at least it’s Edgeworth we’re dealing with here. He’s already one of the most cooperative clients I’ve ever dealt with.”</p>
<p>“Ooh! Daddy!” Trucy grabbed her father’s arm. “Do you think Uncle Miles will pay you for defending him?”</p>
<p>“I mean, we’re friends, so maybe,” Phoenix replied. “I wonder if I could convince him to cover our rent this month too?”</p>
<p>“If he doesn’t, then I will.” Layton gave Phoenix a tip of his hat. “Never fear, Mr Wright. I shall see to it that you get properly compensated for your impressive defence of me yesterday.”</p>
<p>Phoenix felt like he could start blushing again at any moment.</p>
<p>When was the last time somebody had shown him such unprompted generosity? He genuinely couldn’t remember at all.</p>
<p>“…really?” he asked. He didn’t want to get played with again.</p>
<p>“Of course!” Layton said happily. “Especially after you went to the trouble of calling an owl as a witness. An owl who appeared quite uncooperative, as far as I could see.”</p>
<p>“He was extraordinarily rude!” cried Luke. “I’m sure you know the type, Professor. Rather than being a gentleman, he wholeheartedly <em>thought</em> he was a gentleman while being anything but.”</p>
<p>“Oh dear.” The Professor cupped his chin. “Yes, I’m afraid I do know what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>He looked up across the table.</p>
<p>“So Phoenix, would you say you’re feeling relatively confident about your position in this case?”</p>
<p>Yet again, Phoenix’s blood iced over.</p>
<p>He’d gathered enough intel to get a decent sense of how the crime itself had gone down, as well as speaking with the investigator who’d been charged with looking over the scene. Sure, he hadn’t gained a massive amount from it, but it was <em>something</em>. He’d also begun an evidence list and spoken with his client, as well as talking with a character witness who had informed him a great deal about the village and the woman who had run it until last night.</p>
<p>But he had no idea who had actually committed this crime.</p>
<p>With what Edgeworth had suggested, he couldn’t even be sure there <em>was</em> a crime to find a culprit for.</p>
<p>However, he knew that these issues tended to sort themselves out during the trial itself, so at this point, that was something he was going to have to bank on.</p>
<p>This was a position he’d been in plenty of times before, and he’d always secured himself a solid victory.</p>
<p>It was hard not to smile at the thought.</p>
<p>“…yeah,” he said. “I guess I am.”</p>
<p>“Excellent!” Layton said happily.</p>
<p>“See, Daddy?” Trucy piped up. “I knew you still had it in you!”</p>
<p>“If you want me to help you again, I’d be happy to!” Luke jabbed a thumb at himself to emphasise his point. “I really feel like I’m getting the hang of this lawyer thing and I’d love to get some more practise!”</p>
<p>As if on cue, his stomach let out a loud, bubbling gurgle, and he pressed his arms against his abdomen with a shy little giggle.</p>
<p>“Well, it’s quite hard to defend on an empty stomach,” Layton laughed, and he threw a meaningful glance at the bag on the table. “How about it, Luke? Fancy sharing those scones with us?”</p>
<p>Luke gave an enthusiastic nod and sprang to his feet.</p>
<p>“I don’t think I’ve ever actually had scones before,” Phoenix thought aloud as the bag was unpacked. “I know I was in England a couple of years ago, but I didn’t get a chance to try them. Maya was so eager to try <em>everything</em> that we barely got a chance to do <em>anything</em>.”</p>
<p>“I can relate.” Trucy thumped her elbows onto the table and her head into her hands. “Every time I’m trying to learn a new trick, I always end up thinking about the tricks I could be learning instead!”</p>
<p>“Hmm…”</p>
<p>The pair looked up at the Professor, who was cupping his chin in thought. Phoenix had a fairly good feeling what he was about to say.</p>
<p>“Would a quick puzzle help you clear your mind?”</p>
<p>Yep, there it was.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Phoenix turned his attention away from the snow fluttering past the window and sat down on the side of the bed.</p>
<p>“You know,” he said, “you still haven’t told me why you dragged me out to the mountains in the first place.”</p>
<p>The little girl he was speaking to nestled down in the sheets and closed her eyes as if pretending to sleep.</p>
<p>“I’m not telling,” she replied.</p>
<p>“Can you at least explain why you aren’t telling?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>“Because you’ll be mad at me if I do!” said Trucy.</p>
<p>“You can’t be sure of that unless you try!”</p>
<p>“Hey, don’t try to lawyer me! How could you, Daddy? Your own daughter!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Phoenix couldn’t help but laugh at how offended she sounded. “But I bet you wouldn’t have done it if you’d known it’d be so exhausting.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Trucy said softly.</p>
<p>She seemed like she wanted to say more, but was cut off by a wide, loud, overpowering yawn.</p>
<p>The sight of her sleepy face, complete with watering eyes and pouty lips, was almost enough to make Phoenix want to cry. This had to be the cutest little girl in the history of adoptive parenting.</p>
<p>Curse you, Zak Gramarye, for abandoning such a sweetheart.</p>
<p>Phoenix stood up and stretched his back. Time to let her get the rest she needed.</p>
<p>“Hey, Daddy?”</p>
<p>No, it seemed like she had more to say.</p>
<p>“What’s on your mind, Trucy-Goosy?” Phoenix sat back down on the edge of the bed.</p>
<p>Trucy’s fingers fidgeted on the edge of the bedsheets. She pulled it up to her face.</p>
<p>Was she trying to hide herself?</p>
<p>“I just wanted to tell you…”</p>
<p>Her voice muffled, she lowered the sheets and looked up at Phoenix.</p>
<p>Were her eyes still watery from her yawn?</p>
<p>“You don’t have to pretend to be happy for me,” she said.</p>
<p>Phoenix could have sworn he felt his heart stop.</p>
<p>He should have known. He should have realised right from the start that he wasn’t going to be able to keep anything from this kid. Her people-reading skills could put even Edgeworth to shame and she was only one third his age, so how the heck had he thought he’d be able to keep it to himself? How had he thought he’d be able to hide his mind turning against him?</p>
<p>No. No, he couldn’t tell her this. She was a <em>child</em>. She deserved better than to have to listen to all his baggage. It was bad enough that he had unloaded everything on the Professor, but Trucy was another matter entirely. There was no chance in hell he could talk to her about this.</p>
<p>But she’d noticed. She <em>knew</em>.</p>
<p>Was there any chance in hell of keeping it to himself anymore?</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?” It was worth a try, at least. “I’m not pretending to be happy. I’m not pretending to be anything!”</p>
<p>“Dad, I’m serious!”</p>
<p>…her eyes weren’t watery because she was tired.</p>
<p>Phoenix wished he could punch himself.</p>
<p>“Trucy?” He brushed a lock of brunette away from her face. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>Trucy shuffled in bed and sat up.</p>
<p>“I know you’ve been faking it,” she told him, fiddling with the bedsheets in her fingers. “Did you forget I’m really good at telling when people are hiding something?”</p>
<p>Yeah, there it was. Phoenix pressed a hand to his forehead.</p>
<p>“And here I thought I had the best poker face in the business,” he thought aloud. “Guess I’ve still got some practising to do.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want you to hide it better!” shouted Trucy.</p>
<p>The light from the bedside lamp was soft and dim, but Phoenix could see his daughter’s face flushing and darkening.</p>
<p>“I want you to be honest with me!” she cried. “I heard you last night, Daddy! I know you’ve been lying to me about how you’re really feeling because you don’t want to upset me!”</p>
<p>She pressed her hands to her eyes and her entire body heaved as she sobbed.</p>
<p>“Hey, h-hey, hey!” Phoenix leaned in and tried to wipe the tears away from her cheeks. “Don’t cry, don’t cry!”</p>
<p>He tried not to curse himself too much. His own ego wasn’t important right now. He had to keep his baby girl from beating herself up even more than she obviously already had.</p>
<p>“Trucy, I had no idea I was upsetting you so much!” He brushed her hair away from her face so that it didn’t get caught in the tear tracks. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”</p>
<p>Trucy sniffed a booger back up into her nose.</p>
<p>“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” she told Phoenix, her voice already strained from how hard she had been crying. “You’ve already got so much to deal with.”</p>
<p>“Oh, sweetie.” Phoenix pulled her into a hug, and struggled to contain his relief at the feeling of her returning it. “I can always make time for my baby girl.”</p>
<p>He stroked her head and rubbed her back, and every tiny sob she let out cut into his heart like a scalpel.</p>
<p>He felt disgusted at how powerless he had become. All he could do was hold her and wait for her to stop crying.</p>
<p>…was this what the Professor had felt like last night?</p>
<p>It looked like Phoenix was going to have to find some way to repay him.</p>
<p>“I love you, Dad,” Trucy wept. “I love you so much. And I hate seeing you trying to hide how sad you are. I can always see it in you. I see it in your eyes all the time!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Trucy,” Phoenix whispered. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>He kissed her on the side of her head.</p>
<p>“The last thing I want is to make you upset,” he told her, “you hear me?”</p>
<p>Trucy sniffed again.</p>
<p>“Uh-huh,” she said.</p>
<p>Phoenix broke the hug and leaned away from her, and paused to wipe away another tear.</p>
<p>“If you think I’m hiding my sadness again, don’t be afraid to call it out, okay?” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you getting upset on my behalf. Deal?”</p>
<p>He held up his hand, and Trucy took it and gave it a firm shake.</p>
<p>“Deal,” she replied.</p>
<p>“Now take a deep breath…”</p>
<p>She inhaled deeply.</p>
<p>“…dry your eyes…”</p>
<p>She wiped her eyes on the backs of her hands.</p>
<p>“…and try to get some sleep.” Phoenix cradled her down into the pillows. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”</p>
<p>The tired little girl obediently nestled back down into bed.</p>
<p>“Do you swear, Dad?” she said. “Swear to me you’ll be honest with me about your feelings from now on.”</p>
<p>Phoenix pulled the sheets up to her shoulder. He could think of at least one sure-fire way to assure her nothing was wrong.</p>
<p>“Trucy,” he said, “I swear to you in the name of the Painted King.”</p>
<p>And sure enough, she giggled.</p>
<p>“There’s that smile.” He kissed the tip of his finger and pressed it to her cheek. “That’s better.”</p>
<p>He stood up again and gave his back another stretch.</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Trucy-Goosy,” he said, and started towards the door.</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Daddy,” Trucy said behind him.</p>
<p>“Oh, and Luke probably won’t be long, so don’t hog the blankets.”</p>
<p>One last pause to listen to her sweet little giggle and Phoenix left Trucy alone to sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>When Luke emerged from the bathroom, he was wiping his mouth on the back of his hand in a very ungentlemanly manner.</p>
<p>“There you go, Professor,” he said once he was done. “It’s all yours.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Luke,” Layton responded. “However, I washed my face and brushed my teeth in the kitchen sink.”</p>
<p>Luke’s disappointment was mild, but obvious.</p>
<p>“…oh,” he said softly.</p>
<p>Layton couldn’t avoid smiling in amusement.</p>
<p>“There are some things one never forgets from their university days,” he told his apprentice. “Are you going to bed?”</p>
<p>Luke didn’t reply.</p>
<p>His gaze had wandered to his coat, still hanging beside the front door.</p>
<p>“Professor?”</p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p>It wasn’t until Luke looked back at him that Layton saw the anxiety all over his face.</p>
<p>“How, um…” He dusted dried toothpaste off the back of his hand. “How much has Mr Wright told you about supernatural stuff?”</p>
<p>The Professor held back the urge to laugh. He had a feeling it would look rather rude.</p>
<p>“Quite frankly, I haven’t dared to ask him,” he replied. “Even for a man of my experience, the possibility of ghosts not only being real, but capable of murder is quite a lot to wrap my head around.”</p>
<p>Luke brushed a lock of hair out of his eye.</p>
<p>“Do you remember earlier?” he asked. “When I got back here with the scones?”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” said Layton. “Phoenix was very embarrassed to have been caught in the act of playing.”</p>
<p>“And do you remember that I had that seeing stone to my eye?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>For a man as intelligent as Professor Layton, it didn’t take a great deal of time for the pieces to slip into place.</p>
<p>“What did you see?” he asked.</p>
<p>Luke’s eyes tracked down to the floor and he swallowed.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sure if I even want to know.”</p>
<p>Layton couldn’t hold back a frown.</p>
<p>What in the world could have happened to have disturbed his apprentice like this?</p>
<p>“Can you at least try to describe it for me?” he asked, as softly and gently as he could.</p>
<p>This time, Luke clenched his fist around his jumper.</p>
<p>“It was…” His voice was quivering. “It was Mr Wright. While he was playing the violin, he was…”</p>
<p>He relaxed his fingers as he looked back up at Layton.</p>
<p>“He was glowing.”</p>
<p>Layton set his jaw to keep himself from gasping in shock.</p>
<p>He didn’t have enough. There had to be a logical explanation for what Luke had just said, but he didn’t have all the pieces yet.</p>
<p>“What did you say?” he asked.</p>
<p>“And not just him!” cried Luke. “The violin too! They were glowing, Professor! The strings and the bow and Mr Wright- they were all <em>glowing!</em>”</p>
<p>From the desperation in his voice and the fear he had clearly been gripped by prior to telling the Professor about this, it was obvious Luke was telling the truth.</p>
<p>More to the point, this boy knew better than to make up stories, especially stories as outlandish as this one. The fact that he was so convinced of what he was saying showed Layton that he wasn’t just seeking attention. This was something that he had actually <em>seen</em>.</p>
<p>But there still wasn’t enough. Layton needed more.</p>
<p>“Well, that seems highly irregular,” he replied. “And you mean to tell me that you could only see this through that stone?”</p>
<p>“I don’t understand it at all,” said Luke. “You didn’t see it, did you?”</p>
<p>“I think I would have noticed if Phoenix began emitting light whilst he was playing,” Layton pointed out.</p>
<p>“And…”</p>
<p>There was more?</p>
<p>“Professor,” said Luke, “Mr Wright can see the spirits of this village without using a stone.”</p>
<p>Just when the Professor thought the plot couldn’t thicken any more.</p>
<p>He had been prepared to assume the stones had some kind of hallucinatory property, that the villagers had been making things up or that the village was flooded with holograms that could only be viewed with the help of those stones, but if Mr Wright, a person who had never been to Fatargan before, could see these ‘spirits’ without such aid…</p>
<p>“Can he now?” he said curiously.</p>
<p>“He told me it might be something to do with his amulet, that…” Luke waved his hand as he searched for the word. “I think he said it was called a magatama. He said it might be related to that, but I don’t think he was sure about it. What if he…”</p>
<p>If he kept wringing his jumper like that, he was going to rip it open.</p>
<p>“Do you think it’s possible he might have some kind of special power?” he asked anxiously. “I think they call it being psychic, don’t they?”</p>
<p>Much as he wanted to say that the very concept was preposterous, Layton was a smart man. He knew better than to dismiss a piece of a puzzle just because it didn’t seem to make sense in the moment.</p>
<p>“That seems infinitely more likely than the idea of him hailing from this village,” he considered. “Even as evasive as he behaved up until last night, that seems like something he would have mentioned. I may just bring this up with him. Thank you for telling me, my boy.”</p>
<p>Luke finally stopped twisting his jumper.</p>
<p>“I’m glad you don’t think I’m crazy.” He gave the Professor a nervous smile.</p>
<p>Layton responded with a tip of his hat and a simple request:</p>
<p>“Now go to bed.”</p>
<p>And just like that, the smile vanished.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you aren’t my dad somewhere under that hat?” Luke asked flatly.</p>
<p>“Your father entrusted you to my care, Luke,” Layton pointed out. “I would be remiss if I didn’t fulfil that trust.”</p>
<p>Before he had a chance to argue, Luke’s breath was overtaken by a yawn.</p>
<p>Fifteen years old, and yet still as adorable as he had been the day they had met.</p>
<p>“I guess it’s a good thing I’m tired anyway,” he very clearly lied. “Goodnight, Professor.”</p>
<p>The Professor gave him a smile.</p>
<p>“Sleep well, Luke.”</p>
<p>He watched his apprentice approach the door just in time for it to open, and for Phoenix to very kindly hold it open for him to wander through and mutter a quiet thanks and bid goodnight.</p>
<p>When Phoenix closed the door, he slumped back against it, tipping his head back with a sigh of either relief or exhaustion.</p>
<p>Was something wrong?</p>
<p>“Any problems?” Layton asked just to make sure.</p>
<p>“My daughter is an angel, Layton,” Phoenix replied, and he pushed himself away from the door. “What do you think?”</p>
<p>Layton held back an ungentlemanly snort of laughter.</p>
<p>“An angel who can pick a lock like the finest cat-burglar in the land,” he pointed out. “You may wish to keep a closer eye on her in the future.”</p>
<p>Phoenix slapped his hands on the back of his neck as he approached the lounge area, and he stretched his neck from side to side with an unsettling clicking noise.</p>
<p>“You said earlier that you had contacts you were going to… uh, contact,” he said. “Did you get through to them?”</p>
<p>The Professor tugged his hat down over his eyes. Phoenix didn’t need to see his disappointment.</p>
<p>“I certainly tried,” he explained, “but no sooner had I pressed the phone's first number than I realised the line was silent.”</p>
<p>“Silent?” Phoenix stared at him in alarm. “Seriously? Not even a dial tone?”</p>
<p>“Nothing of the sort,” replied Layton. “I suspect that at some point, either during my time here or some days prior, the phone lines linking this cottage to the outside world were severed.”</p>
<p>Phoenix threw his arm skywards.</p>
<p>“So in other words, we’re stuck here,” he groaned through another painful-looking stretch. “Fan-goddamn-tastic.”</p>
<p>“Not so loud, Phoenix,” Layton warned. “Your daughter and my young apprentice are nothing if not partial to eavesdropping, after all.”</p>
<p>“You don’t think they deserved to know the truth?” Phoenix pointed out, heavily dropping his arms to his sides.</p>
<p>“…a fair point,” Layton concluded.</p>
<p>He followed Phoenix to where the cottage’s two sofas sat facing each other, whereupon the ex-lawyer sat down so heavily that he scooted the seat backwards.</p>
<p>“This feels wrong,” he complained, staring up at the ceiling while Layton took a seat on the other sofa. “I know I’m tired – I’m <em>exhausted</em> – but I feel like I should be out there doing stuff! Investigating! Gathering evidence! Instead I’m just…” He waved his hand around, no doubt searching for the right phrasing. “I’m just stuck <em>here!</em>”</p>
<p>“There isn’t anything wrong with a desire to do one’s job,” Layton assured him, and he gave Phoenix a pat on the knee (the only part of his body he could reach). “Especially if a man’s life were to hang in the balance.”</p>
<p>Phoenix glared at the Professor down his nose.</p>
<p>“It isn’t my job anymore, remember?” he stated flatly.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” Layton quickly replied. “My apologies.”</p>
<p>He watched as Phoenix rubbed his hand over his face.</p>
<p>Exhausted, yet restless. It was a sensation that no doubt both of them knew all too well. The desperation to get something, <em>anything</em> accomplished, but feeling too heavy and worn out to do anything except lie in place and rest, perhaps even sleep if the situation were to allow it.</p>
<p>Layton cupped his chin and rubbed his fingertip along the edge of his jaw.</p>
<p>There had to be <em>something</em> they could do. Something that would, at least, distract Phoenix from how dire their straits were and that would, at best, advance their investigation.</p>
<p>Perhaps something that could be carried over from their previous days in Fatargan.</p>
<p>Perhaps even…</p>
<p>Yes. There was <em>that</em>. Surely even Phoenix wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to investigate that, would he?</p>
<p>“If you wish to burn some energy,” Layton said, “I think I know one method that may interest you.”</p>
<p>Phoenix looked at him down his nose again.</p>
<p>“I’m listening,” he said.</p>
<p>“Thanks to your daughter’s vanishing trick, as you know,” the Professor explained, “I managed to escape from the court and used the tunnels and caves in this village’s mountains to do so. However, as I was venturing through those tunnels, I happened upon something…”</p>
<p>Now he needed to describe it in a way that was simple, but wouldn’t sound too confusing.</p>
<p>“Well, it was really rather curious,” he said.</p>
<p>Phoenix leaned forward, an appropriate spark of curiosity twinkling in his eyes.</p>
<p>“You found something in the caves? What was it?” he asked.</p>
<p>Layton wracked his brain.</p>
<p>“I’ll admit it was quite difficult to make out,” he admitted. “The tunnel was hardly well-illuminated, after all, and I didn’t have my lantern on me, but with what little night vision I had, I could just about make out some kind of… the only thing I can assume it may have been was a puzzle.”</p>
<p>Phoenix blinked at him in confusion.</p>
<p>“A puzzle?” he echoed. “In a <em>cave?</em>”</p>
<p>“Don’t forget this used to be a mining town, Phoenix,” said Layton. “I’d hesitate before suggesting that said puzzle was of supernatural origin. I had hoped that perhaps the village may have quietened down somewhat today, meaning I could venture out to take a better look, but unfortunately…”</p>
<p>“…the village was <em>not</em> that,” Phoenix finished for him.</p>
<p>“Exactly,” said Layton.</p>
<p>He looked up at the kitchen windows, illuminated by the yellow glow of street lamps.</p>
<p>“But it is now,” he pointed out.</p>
<p>Phoenix looked up at the window with a frown.</p>
<p>“You want to go out and investigate it right now?” he realised.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Layton said. “From what I can tell, this may be our most golden opportunity.”</p>
<p>“At night?”</p>
<p>“Do recall the citizen’s paranoia. I highly doubt we would be disturbed.”</p>
<p>“In a <em>Scottish winter?!</em>”</p>
<p>“You managed last night, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“I was high on adrenaline from finding my best friend frozen half to death!” Phoenix struggled not to shout. “That’s different!”</p>
<p>Layton gave him a smile that he hoped would come across as comforting.</p>
<p>“Phoenix,” he said, “surely you must have learned by now that there is no greater high than that of solving a truly mind-bending puzzle. Under any other circumstances, it would be Luke whose aid I requested, but that boy has more than earned his rest, and given that it would be a bad idea to go into the village or the caves by myself…”</p>
<p>He could see the threads stitching themselves together in Phoenix’s mind.</p>
<p>“You want me to go with you,” he realised.</p>
<p>The Professor gave him a nod of approval.</p>
<p>“I dread to say it,” he said, “but should tomorrow’s trial go poorly, tonight may be our last chance.”</p>
<p>He stood up and offered his hand.</p>
<p>“What do you say, Phoenix?” he asked. “Care to join me on a little late-night puzzle solving adventure?”</p>
<p>Phoenix stared at the hand, then up at the Professor’s face.</p>
<p>Layton just kept his hand steady.</p>
<p>It only took a few seconds for Phoenix to sigh again, this time rolling his eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m going to hate myself for this…”</p>
<p>He took Layton’s hand.</p>
<p>“Sure, why not?” he said, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “Just give me a sec to get my jacket on. No way I’m going out there without keeping warm.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” said Layton. “I’ll be ready when you are.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. The Spirit on the Doorstep part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The freezing wind bit at Layton’s nose and cheeks as he and Phoenix ran, hunched over, across the small square towards the bridge. He pressed his scarf over his face and breathed into it, washing warmth over his cheeks, and pressed his hands into his pockets to protect his gloveless fingers from the cold. Only a few seconds outside and he was already regretting this decision.</p>
<p>Not only that, but the prickling on the back of his neck was becoming unbearable.</p>
<p>When they reached the bridge, Phoenix crouched behind one of the lampposts that stood at its corner and motioned for the Professor to stay behind him as he looked down its length to the mainland village.</p>
<p>Phoenix sighed a billowing cloud of steam into the air.</p>
<p>“Crap-” he whispered.</p>
<p>“Language, Phoenix,” Layton interjected before he could get any further.</p>
<p>His warning earned him a glare of annoyance before Phoenix looked back down the bridge.</p>
<p>“…crud,” he muttered instead. “I know this bridge is the most direct route to the village, if not the <em>only</em> route, but does it really have to be so exposed?”</p>
<p>Layton hunched his shoulders and wished he had brought a pair of earmuffs with him. He looked back towards the cottage he was renting and cringed at the sight of two clear, sharp, distinct sets of footprints leading from there to where he and Phoenix now stood.</p>
<p>Unless it snowed again soon, it would become abundantly clear to anybody willing to look for them that someone had come and gone from the cottage during the night. Unless they assumed it was Phoenix and Luke, questions were bound to be raised.</p>
<p>He followed Phoenix’s gaze down the bridge. Even more exposed than this square.</p>
<p>But by this point, they didn’t have any choice in the matter.</p>
<p>“I understand how you feel,” he said, “but if we just stay calm and keep our heads down, we should make it to the cave entrance without incident.”</p>
<p>“Ugh,” he heard Phoenix sigh. “You’d better be right about this.”</p>
<p>He stayed low, crouched beside the railing that ran along the side of the bridge, and Layton followed his lead as he ran across, pausing and looking back every now and again to make sure either the Professor was still there or they weren’t being followed.</p>
<p>The snow was about three inches deep. Perhaps more. Deep enough that it came right up to their ankles, at least. Deep enough for their weight not to reach all the way down to the bridge’s wooden surface, preventing them from slipping or squeaking that would alert any listeners to their presence.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, every crunching footstep was like a punch to Layton’s stomach. He felt like any moment, somebody could leap out of the shadows and apprehend them both.</p>
<p>And this prickle on the back of his neck just was <em>not going away</em>.</p>
<p>Okay. They’d made it across. Phoenix grabbed the Professor by the shoulder and Layton allowed himself to be pulled into the thankfully empty shadows by the side of the library.</p>
<p>“Right,” Phoenix hissed. “We’re on the mainland. Where do we go from here?”</p>
<p>Layton raised his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed the hairs that were standing on end.</p>
<p>He hadn’t seen anybody else outside since they had departed, so if they were being watched, it must be by somebody they didn’t have any hope of seeing.</p>
<p>As far as he could tell, much as he disliked it, there was one very clear explanation for that sensation.</p>
<p>“First things first,” he said to Phoenix, “what’s our spirit situation?”</p>
<p>Phoenix moved past him, pressed against the library wall, and peered around the corner. His expression didn’t change at all, but Layton could see his fingers quivering.</p>
<p>“There’re way more over here than near your cottage,” he reported. “They aren’t very tightly packed, but if I tell you to stop, slow down or move to one side, it’d probably be a good idea to do that.”</p>
<p>“Understood,” Layton replied. “I wouldn’t want to walk headlong into a ghost. Can you tell what they’re doing?”</p>
<p>Before Phoenix could even open his mouth, a loud <em>bang</em> made both of them jump, and Phoenix leaned back from the corner as something nearby started rattling.</p>
<p>“It looks like they’re trying to get into the buildings,” he explained. “One of them just winced after touching the window frame. I think it’s iron, but I can’t be sure.”</p>
<p>“I have heard that iron is a repellent of the supernatural,” the Professor considered, “although the concept of a person who is already dead being hurt by anything is rather strange.”</p>
<p>“I’ll keep you posted on where they are in relation to us,” said Phoenix, and he leaned away from the corner. “So how do we get to this puzzle you found?”</p>
<p>Layton moved to where Phoenix had stood and looked around the corner, ignoring the rattling windows near where his head now was.</p>
<p>He could see the bell tower not far away. Beyond that, cold white light from the police station spilled out into the snow, and he could just about see it shining on the still surface of the Sacred Well.</p>
<p>The fact that the lights were still on likely meant the officers were still active.</p>
<p>The Professor ran a finger over his chin with a pensive hum.</p>
<p>“Don’t tell me you don’t know!” Phoenix whispered hoarsely.</p>
<p>“I do,” Layton said. “I’m simply weighing our options. The exit that I used to emerge from the cave is up the steps, near the post office-”</p>
<p>“Wait, what?” Phoenix interrupted. “How did you get back to the cottage unnoticed?”</p>
<p>Layton suddenly remembered the arduous process he’d had to go through. Stepping in premade footprints, hugging the buildings and the bridge’s railing, ducking behind trees and bushes whenever somebody drew near…</p>
<p>“…carefully,” he said simply. “As I was saying, the exit I used is up there-” He pointed around the corner in the direction he knew the steps led. “-but as I was fleeing, I noticed a second way in and out, about which I have good news and bad news.”</p>
<p>Phoenix sighed and leaned against the library wall.</p>
<p>“Fine, lay it on me,” he murmured.</p>
<p>The Professor leaned away from the corner. Thank goodness these shadows were so dark. So long as he hid his coat’s buttons, he’d be all but invisible.</p>
<p>“The good news is that there appeared to be a far more direct route to the puzzle that I found,” he explained. “The bad news is…”</p>
<p>He looked back again, checking that nobody had gone outside.</p>
<p>“…if I was correct about the topography,” he continued, “that entry-way is beside the police station.”</p>
<p>Phoenix inhaled through his nose in that special way people tend to do when they’re trying their hardest not to panic.</p>
<p>“That <em>is</em> bad news,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“Never fear, Phoenix,” said Layton. “If we move quickly enough, we should be able to hurry past without being noticed. Do you have your gloves on? I wouldn’t want to leave fingerprints.”</p>
<p>Phoenix held up his hand and flexed his fingers for the Professor to see.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said. “Do you?”</p>
<p>Layton held up his own hand and wiggled his bare fingers.</p>
<p>“Unfortunately not,” he stated. “Not since the police confiscated them as evidence.”</p>
<p>He plunged that hand back into his pocket before the cold had a chance to bite at his skin.</p>
<p>“I hadn’t packed a spare pair,” he told Phoenix, “because of all the things I anticipated, the need for a second pair of gloves wasn’t one of them.”</p>
<p>“Are you serious?” whispered Phoenix. “Your hands must be freezing!”</p>
<p>“I’m English, Phoenix,” Layton stated. “I’m quite used to cold weather by now.”</p>
<p>He took a quick look past the bell tower again. Thank goodness the region was still devoid of life.</p>
<p>“Besides,” he added, “once we enter the cave, I can use the heat from my lantern to keep my fingers warm. At the very least, warm enough to ward off frostbite.”</p>
<p>“Warm enough to keep you from ending up like Edgeworth?” Phoenix suggested.</p>
<p>Layton replied with a grim nod.</p>
<p>It had been a while since they had arrived. In that time, not a single living soul had set foot in their field of view. Those factors considered, they now had a high likelihood of reaching the cave entrance he had told Phoenix about without encountering resistance.</p>
<p>He kept one hand on his hat to hold it in place as he ran, still so hunched that he was almost bent double, and he kept his ears as open as possible as they approached the police station. It would be just their luck for someone to approach down the stairs and see him for long enough to recognise him.</p>
<p>Perhaps, if they did, he could convince them that he was already dead and had returned as a ghost-</p>
<p>Something grabbed his coat.</p>
<p>While he was ducking under one of the police station’s windows, he felt a force tugging on his coat’s tail, and he whipped around to see what it was.</p>
<p>Thank goodness it was just Phoenix, but Layton’s relief was short-lived. Phoenix’s eyes were wide, jaw set and mouth drawn as though holding back a scream, and he was staring straight past the Professor at something somewhere in front of them.</p>
<p>Still looking back, a cold wind brushed against Layton’s cheek.</p>
<p><em>Something was right in front of him</em>.</p>
<p>He stayed rooted to the spot. He didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare turn back. Didn’t even dare <em>breathe</em> in case… he had no specific idea what would happen if a ghost (if that was really what it was) was disturbed, but he truly did <em>not</em> want to find out.</p>
<p>He held his breath. Kept his eyes on Phoenix’s face. There was nothing he could do but trust him and wait for him to give the all clear, to tell him it was safe to proceed without risking walking through… whatever Phoenix was preventing him from walking through.</p>
<p>Phoenix’s gaze tracked sideways, following something that Layton couldn’t see.</p>
<p>Above them, the window rattled in its frame.</p>
<p>At long last, Phoenix looked back at Layton and nodded.</p>
<p>All clear.</p>
<p>Layton finally exhaled. He waited for his coat to be released before putting his head down again and running as fast as he could to the cave entrance. A barred door was set into the rock, hanging on heavy but well-oiled hinges, but wrapped in a thick chain secured by a padlock and hooks driven into the stone wall.</p>
<p>Having finished running, he and Phoenix straightened up.</p>
<p>“Oh dear,” Layton sighed. “That would appear to be a rather sturdy padlock.”</p>
<p>Phoenix lifted the padlock with one of his fingers.</p>
<p>It fell open at his touch.</p>
<p>“…it’s not locked,” he said flatly.</p>
<p>The Professor dug his hands into his pockets. He felt as though Luke’s awkward behaviour suddenly made a great deal more sense.</p>
<p>“Much as I would like to credit our luck,” he said, “it appears we must instead credit some other person’s lack thereof.”</p>
<p>“Whatever.” Phoenix unhooked the lock and hung it around the bars. “I’m already freezing. Let’s just get in there already.”</p>
<p>He yanked the door open and held it for Layton to enter, and Layton muttered a quick thanks as they stepped inside. He waited until Phoenix had closed the door and repositioned the chain before digging his lantern out and flicking it on.</p>
<p>“Ugh…” Phoenix groaned as he stepped up beside Layton. “I think it’s even colder in here. It’s like Ms Skellig’s house all over again.”</p>
<p>The Professor didn’t reply.</p>
<p>He angled his lantern upwards, guiding the light down the length of the cave. The walls around them were a stark greenish grey, veined with black, and short, thick stalactites hung from the ceiling while shorter, thicker stalagmites sat around the edges of the floor.</p>
<p>Just like Phoenix had said, it <em>did</em> feel colder in here, but a different kind of cold to the empty, biting chill of outside. This was a cloying cold that clung to his skin and seeped under his scarf and up his sleeves.</p>
<p>This region looked familiar.</p>
<p>Yes, this was the place he had seen yesterday. Thank goodness they hadn’t had to go searching for it.</p>
<p>“This way, Phoenix,” he said softly.</p>
<p>The walls were too damp to echo. Thank <em>goodness</em>.</p>
<p>“I believe it may be a similar principle to a refrigerator,” Layton explained as he led Phoenix into the humid cold. “The stone around us is both absorbing and subsequently emitting the cold, although I will confess that thermodynamics was never my theory of study. I wouldn’t be surprised if the villagers used these tunnels as cold storage if they ran out of space in their own personal fridges.”</p>
<p>He looked up at Phoenix in hope of a response, but his friend seemed distracted by the cave walls that surrounded them.</p>
<p>“They said this used to be a coal-mining town, didn’t they?” He leaned towards one wall for a closer look. “Is that what these black veins are?”</p>
<p>Layton turned his lantern to the wall. Those black veins stood out starkly against the khaki walls. To the untrained eye, they would almost seem painted onto the rock.</p>
<p>“Yes, it wouldn’t surprise me,” he commented.</p>
<p>He ran his fingertips along one of the veins, and when he took his fingers away, they were coated in a thick layer of fine black dust.</p>
<p>It seemed about the right consistency for coal. No doubt the mines had been shut down for some spiritual reason or another.</p>
<p>Phoenix was still looking around. Still worried about the possibility of a haunting, it seemed.</p>
<p>Layton looked back down at his black fingertips.</p>
<p>Then at Phoenix again.</p>
<p>“Oh, ah, pardon me,” he said.</p>
<p>“What?” asked Phoenix. “What is it?”</p>
<p>“One moment, you have a stray snowflake clinging to your face.” Layton reached up and smeared the black dust on Phoenix’s cheek. “There we go.”</p>
<p>He fought to keep a straight face as Phoenix touched his cheek and frowned at his glove.</p>
<p>“Layton, did you just smear coal dust on my face?” he asked.</p>
<p>“For good reason, my friend,” said Layton, wishing he had a handkerchief to wipe the remains of the dust off his hand. “With how easily it spreads, it’s clear to me now that this is the genuine article. You were correct in your assumption that these veins are coal.”</p>
<p>He shined his lantern around the cave, tracking the veins down the tunnel.</p>
<p>“And you’re sure that wasn’t just an excuse to smudge coal dust on my face?” Phoenix demanded.</p>
<p>“Be careful with how you breathe.” It had suddenly become very difficult to avoid smiling. “I don’t think your daughter would forgive me if I let you go home with black lung.”</p>
<p>“What are you, twelve?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>At the sound of his exasperation, Layton allowed himself a little chuckle.</p>
<p>“Phoenix, you would be surprised what we archaeologists must do for our jobs,” he told his friend. “I’m sure you’ve heard of instances of explorers coming across animals preserved in ice?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” said Phoenix. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Do you know what the best method is for determining if those animals have been fully preserved or not?” asked Layton.</p>
<p>Phoenix’s face fell. He suddenly looked very, <em>very</em> uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“…no,” he said, “but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me and I’m not going to like it very much.”</p>
<p>“You eat it.”</p>
<p>There it was. The moment for the ex-lawyer to stare at the Professor in abject horror and no effort whatsoever to hide his disgust.</p>
<p>“What?!” he spluttered.</p>
<p>“Take a bite, chew it up and spit it out,” Layton explained. “Then, in my case at least, follow with mouthwash and a round of antivirals, antimicrobials and antibiotics.”</p>
<p>It was moments like these that made his job not only worth doing, but worth explaining. The sheer abhorrence in Phoenix’s wide eyes and slack jaw was truly a sight to behold.</p>
<p>Layton couldn’t avoid reaching up and gently pressing his jaw shut with his finger before Phoenix had a chance to shake him away.</p>
<p>“…and here I thought it was all just digging up ruins and piecing together vases,” he said numbly.</p>
<p>“A great deal of scientific research tends to be far more interesting than many people give it credit for,” the Professor told him happily, “but for now…”</p>
<p>He turned his lantern’s beam to the wall that loomed in front of them.</p>
<p>“…our scientific minds should focus themselves on this puzzle.”</p>
<p>“Whoa,” he heard Phoenix mutter.</p>
<p>It was more or less that reaction he had expected to the bizarre arrangement that was set into the rock.</p>
<p>The stone wall in front of them had been carved down and flattened to make space for a large carving, perhaps around seven feet in diameter, of a series of three concentric circles. The cracks that formed their edges were thin, yet deep, and gave the impression of there being something on the other side just waiting to be revealed.</p>
<p>The circles themselves were dappled with carved out spots, alternating between roughly half a centimetre and an inch wide, and Layton took a step closer to run his hand over the surface and feel how shallow and smoothly they had been cut.</p>
<p>“At a glance, these indentations would appear to be nothing more than ordinary erosion,” he told Phoenix, “but if you look closer, you’ll see that these have been deliberately carved. If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed that the larger ones were bullet holes.”</p>
<p>“And these cracks…” Phoenix ran his finger over the edge of the largest circle. “These are discs, right?” He took a step back to take in the entire design. “This thing looks like some kind of giant stone target.”</p>
<p>Layton stepped back too. His lantern’s beam expanded to encompass the entire design.</p>
<p>“They aren’t just cracks,” he pointed out. “If my hunch is correct, these discs are intended to be rotated so that the indentations form a specific pattern. Once that is accomplished, our puzzle is solved.”</p>
<p>“What happens then?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>The Professor stepped back towards the rock face. It seemed like the same granite that had made up the passage to the Pictish Shrine – no doubt the same granite that the whole mountain range was composed of – and it was dry, but cold to the touch.</p>
<p>“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he replied.</p>
<p>He heard Phoenix step closer, moving into the corner of his vision, and he saw him trying to look into the cracks between the circles, nose almost flat against the rock.</p>
<p>“This thing could trigger a cave-in, Layton,” he said, and looked around the cave they were in with eyes wild and afraid. “It could set off spike traps or flamethrowers or send a massive boulder rolling down the slope at us!”</p>
<p>Layton rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“Phoenix,” he said, “I think you’ve watched a few too many adventure films.”</p>
<p>“And some ancient puzzle in a mountain cave doesn’t seem like something out of a movie to you?” Phoenix snapped.</p>
<p>Before he had a chance to panic any more, Layton grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers against one of the larger indentations.</p>
<p>“Can you feel how these indentations are carved?” He released Phoenix’s hand and traced his thumb over one of the smaller dents. “The edges of these circles are quite sharp. Given the size of them, I highly doubt they’re ancient and have been maintained over the years, so if you were to consider every possibility, as well as the rate of erosion of stone in these conditions…”</p>
<p>Phoenix lowered his hand.</p>
<p>“This puzzle is relatively recent,” he realised.</p>
<p>“Precisely,” said Layton. “With what we’ve learned about Fatargan’s dear mayor, it wouldn’t surprise me if she turned out to be the one responsible for this set-up.”</p>
<p>“So no ancient arrow traps?” Phoenix asked hopefully.</p>
<p>It was difficult not to laugh at how unnecessarily terrified he was, the Professor considered, but it was while he was looking up at his companion that he noticed something else carved into the granite.</p>
<p>“It would appear not,” he said, “unless those arrows were of a very bizarre shape.”</p>
<p>He angled his lantern upwards.</p>
<p>“Huh? What makes you say…”</p>
<p>Phoenix trailed off when he noticed what Layton was talking about.</p>
<p>“…oh.”</p>
<p>The lettering carved into the rock was just as clear and sharp as myriad dents that had been punched in below it, but the lettering was far from contemporary in appearance. Nothing but sharp lines. No curves whatsoever. It looked rather like something from a fantasy novel.</p>
<p>Because, Layton thought with amusement, it technically <em>was</em> something from a fantasy novel.</p>
<p>“…is that…” Phoenix pressed himself up on tiptoe to get a closer look. “Are those runes?”</p>
<p>He shielded his eyes from the lantern right beside him.</p>
<p>“Don’t tell me this thing opens a door that leads us to some underground society of dwarves,” he groaned.</p>
<p>“While that would be rather amusing, it isn’t the case,” said the Professor. “Would I be correct in assuming you recognise these markings from some work of fiction?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” said Phoenix. “I’m pretty sure I saw it in something from Lord of the Rings one time. At least, I <em>think</em> it was Lord of the Rings. Might’ve been Narnia.”</p>
<p>Of course. What else could it possibly have been?</p>
<p>“What if I were to tell you that J.R.R. Tolkien appropriated Nordic runes for use in his trilogies?” said Layton.</p>
<p>Still shielding his eyes, Phoenix stared at the Professor in fresh confusion.</p>
<p>“Nordic?” He looked from Layton’s face to the runes and back again. “Like… Thor? Vikings? I thought we worked out this was recent! Unless…” He ran his finger over his stubble as he looked back up at the carvings. “…unless someone’s trying to throw us off the scent.”</p>
<p>Layton couldn’t help but smile again.</p>
<p>“Whatever job you’re working currently, Phoenix,” he said, “is a waste of your talents.”</p>
<p>He saw Phoenix smile as well, although there seemed to be a noticeable sense of sadness as he did so. The Professor, rather than letting him mull on his depression again, stepped closer to the wall and stood on tiptoe to get a closer look.</p>
<p>“Let me see…” he muttered.</p>
<p>From behind him came an audible tut.</p>
<p>“Of course you can read runes,” Phoenix sighed.</p>
<p>“Not for my work,” said Layton. “I do have interests outside my career, Phoenix. My old friend Randall helped me learn to read Nordic runes so that we could draw our own map of Middle Earth on his bedroom wall. I may not have seen the films, but I am more than familiar with the original novels.”</p>
<p>He got the feeling that Phoenix was staring right into the back of his head, and he heard another sigh of very obvious annoyance:</p>
<p>“…you <em>nerd</em>.”</p>
<p>Layton pressed his hand to his face. Hopefully Phoenix would interpret that as thinking rather than trying to hide his laughter.</p>
<p>“Let me see,” he muttered again.</p>
<p>The phrase was only six words long, all but the last were relatively short – between two and four letters – and the last was a full eight letters long. That first rune could be interpreted as a T, and the first three words all started with that letter, and the phrase also had two Us and two Rs, and that one letter around halfway through the final word could be interpreted as an A…</p>
<p>A T, a U, an R and an N for the first word. Turn… turn <em>to</em>… turn to the…</p>
<p>And the next one started with a P, had an O and an E at the end…</p>
<p>The last word started with a G and had an I and a C in it…</p>
<p>“…oh.”</p>
<p>“What is it?” asked Phoenix. “Can’t you read it?”</p>
<p>“No, I can read it just fine,” Layton assured him, “but what I’m reading is, well, a little odd.”</p>
<p>He pointed at the inscription and tracked across the writing so that Phoenix could read it and follow along:</p>
<p>“Turn to the pole for guidance.”</p>
<p>Unsurprisingly, Phoenix just blinked at the writing in bafflement.</p>
<p>“Pole?” He was apparently so shocked that his voice squeaked. “What pole?”</p>
<p>No doubt he was following exactly the same route that Layton’s mind was taking right now; casting his mind back over every pole-like object they had seen during the days and nights they had spent in Fatargan.</p>
<p>“If we continue in our assumption that this puzzle is a somewhat new creation,” the Professor said, “then it could be a reference to a pole somewhere in this village. Perhaps a lamppost or a supporting pillar.”</p>
<p>“Pole… pole…” Phoenix pondered. “Maybe the mining lift? The one that’s a bell tower now?”</p>
<p>Layton thought back to it. Certainly a tall, pole-like construction, and one that seemed to be held in high regard by the people who lived in these mountains…</p>
<p>“It’s certainly supported by a number of poles,” he said, “but we can’t go running out into the village too rashly if this turns out to be some scavenger hunt.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re right,” Phoenix sighed. “I don’t like the thought of running headfirst into a ghost’s mouth.”</p>
<p><em>That</em> was what he was concerned about?!</p>
<p>“…or attracting the other villagers’ attention,” Layton pointed out.</p>
<p>“That too,” said Phoenix, almost as an afterthought.</p>
<p>It was difficult not to stare at him. Maybe he was an expert at it in the courtroom, but his lack of prioritising was downright <em>incredible</em> at times.</p>
<p>“Pole…” Layton rubbed his chin, trying to prompt his mind to work on this latest odd puzzle. “…a pole…”</p>
<p>Just how many lamp posts and supports for housing overhangs were dotted around this village?</p>
<p>“…goodness, even if we did try, it would take far too long to examine every single pole in Fatargan,” he realised. “We’d freeze to death before we even made it halfway. Not only that, but the villagers wouldn’t like it if we started poking around their houses.”</p>
<p>“What if…”</p>
<p>Phoenix shook his head.</p>
<p>“Nah, that’s stupid,” he grumbled.</p>
<p>“Phoenix,” said Layton, “if you have an idea, I’d be delighted to hear it.”</p>
<p>The taller man rubbed the back of his neck.</p>
<p>“Well, I was just thinking,” he explained. “What if by ‘pole’ it meant a magnetic pole? You know, North and South?”</p>
<p>North and South Pole? For navigation?</p>
<p>Layton turned back to the puzzle before them. The concentric rings just <em>begging</em> him to twist them into whatever the necessary arrangement turned out to be. He focused his lantern’s beam on the central circle and the little dents carved into it.</p>
<p>A single larger indentation had been marked out in the middle of this central disc. No, not just in the middle. It was <em>exactly</em> in the centre. Mathematically perfect. Not only that, but it was bigger than even the large dents.</p>
<p>A central point… the North Pole…</p>
<p>“Of course…”</p>
<p>Before he could give Phoenix a chance to stop him, Layton shoved the lantern into his hands, turned on his heel and ran through the darkness to the barred door. He tugged the chains away as quietly as he could and hurried out of the rock face’s shelter.</p>
<p>The sky was clear tonight. Clearer than he had seen in days. Every single star in the Milky Way was on full, brilliant display. Even with the light from the nearby police station and the lampposts not far away, the view was so clear that he could see gas clouds glowing far, far above.</p>
<p>The longer he looked, the more stars winked into view. Truly a spectacular display of the night sky. A far cry from the view he’d had from his house in London.</p>
<p>But as he continued looking, certain stars stood out more than the rest. They glimmered so bright that he swore he could pick out different colours. Red, orange, yellow, white, blue…</p>
<p>This opening faced east. The sun rose in front of him and set behind. That meant that to his left, where the King’s Arms and the mountain with the Pictish Shrine loomed overhead, was – roughly, at least – due north.</p>
<p>And right there, shining above the pub, was a star shining brighter than every other in the entirety of the night sky.</p>
<p>A central point for the North Pole.</p>
<p>“Of course!”</p>
<p>Layton turned again and held onto his hat as he ran back into the cave, following his lantern’s light to where Phoenix was waiting, dumbfounded, for him to return.</p>
<p>“Layton, what is it?” he hissed. “What did you figure out?”</p>
<p>The Professor smiled as he took his lantern back and refocused the light on the puzzle.</p>
<p>“I believe, Phoenix, that you may have been entirely correct,” he said happily.</p>
<p>“Wh- really?!” Phoenix choked.</p>
<p>“Look at this puzzle.” Layton took a step back so that the largest circle fitted within his beam. “Look at the discs and the way the dents are carved into them. Does the arrangement remind you of anything?”</p>
<p>Caught in the light, Phoenix looked over the puzzle again, humming in thought. It didn’t take long before he jogged over to stand next to the Professor and see these discs as a whole.</p>
<p>Only a few seconds later, his eyes widened with a gasp of amazement.</p>
<p>“Stars,” he said breathlessly. “It’s a carving of the sky at night.”</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Layton responded. “Now consider the hint again. ‘Turn to the pole for guidance’.”</p>
<p>“Pole… stars…”</p>
<p>Phoenix gasped again.</p>
<p>“The North Star!” he cried. “Polaris!”</p>
<p>The Professor moved closer and kept his light fixed on the biggest dent.</p>
<p>“I believe that as the largest and central indentation,” he told Phoenix, “this mark is intended to represent the North Star, meaning-”</p>
<p>“-if we twist these rings to match up with what the night sky looks like-” Phoenix added.</p>
<p>“-we’ll have solved the puzzle!” They both forgot about the need for quiet and almost shouted in delight.</p>
<p>“Excellent!” Layton said happily. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”</p>
<p>He knew that Polaris was the end point star in the constellation Ursa Minor, and there were marks in the middle ring that would match up with that when in the right position, so he pressed his hands on the stone and pushed it to the side.</p>
<p>“So there aren’t as many larger dents as the smaller ones,” Phoenix said, stepping up to help. “I guess those must be the stars for constellations.”</p>
<p>With both of their strength combined, he and Layton managed to heave the middle ring into position, although the sound of stone scraping against stone was so loud it bordered on cringeworthy. Thank goodness the carvings provided enough texture for them to get a good grip without a handle.</p>
<p>“It’s at times like these that Fatargan’s location reveals itself to be a blessing in disguise,” Layton commented as the stone slid into place. “If we were closer to a city, even in a more standard suburban setting, the night sky would be… <em>ngh</em>… drowned out by light pollution.”</p>
<p>His hands were sore by the time the middle ring was in the right position, and he motioned for Phoenix to take pause so that the two of them could catch their breath and dust off their fingers.</p>
<p>“Our mountainside location is perfect for stargazing,” he finished. “So clear that you can see the gas clouds between the stars!”</p>
<p>Phoenix leaned and stretched his back.</p>
<p>“Do you think they’d let you build an observatory up here?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Maybe once I’ve cleared my name and reconnected with the rest of civilisation,” said Layton. “One moment.”</p>
<p>He turned and ran back out to look at the stars again. Best to check and make sure they were on the right track before they both exhausted themselves moving the largest disc.</p>
<p>Ursa Minor was set in the tail of Draco, which pointed towards Ursa Major, and then on the other side of Polaris there sat Cassiopeia and…</p>
<p>Cepheus. The King.</p>
<p>How very appropriate.</p>
<p>He ran back into the cave and caught up with Phoenix.</p>
<p>“I think we’re on the right track,” he reported. “The middle disc needs to be turned a few more degrees clockwise.”</p>
<p>“Let me guess.” Phoenix pressed his fingertips into the dents for a better grip. “It’s an archaeologist’s – or a gentleman’s – prerogative to memorise at least one star map, right?”</p>
<p>“Not… necessarily…” Layton grunted as they heaved the stone into place, “but it… does make night-time navigation… a good deal more straightforward.”</p>
<p>He blew out a breath and stepped back for another overall look.</p>
<p>“Ah, this outermost one needs to be twisted counter-clockwise,” he decided.</p>
<p>“You’re the boss,” Phoenix commented.</p>
<p>The outermost ring of stone proved the most troublesome of all the concentric carvings. Layton felt his muscles screaming as he <em>heaved</em> against the granite with all his might, and by the sound of how Phoenix was groaning, he was struggling just as much.  Maybe even more.</p>
<p>Stone grinding against stone really was a <em>horrible</em> sound. He’d be delighted to never have to hear it again as long as he lived. Or at least, never have to hear it <em>right in his ear</em> ever again.</p>
<p>Surely… surely it couldn’t be much further… surely they had to be almost done by now, it was almost in place-</p>
<p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p>
<p>The sound of something within the stone caused the Professor to jump back, and he pressed Phoenix away from the puzzle as well.</p>
<p>With an almighty scraping likely loud enough to attract the attention of the whole village, the entire arrangement of circles shifted backwards into the wall and slid down into the rocky ground until it was entirely out of sight, leaving nothing but a gaping black chasm.</p>
<p>“Yes!” Phoenix punched the air in triumph.</p>
<p>“Excellent work!” Layton patted him on the arm. “Phoenix, should you ever decide a new career is in order, I urge you not to take archaeology off the table.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I…” Phoenix looked away in a futile effort to hide his bashful blush. “…I don’t know about that.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps you could even enrol at Gressenheller,” the Professor suggested. “I’m sure I could arrange for you to receive an adventuring companion’s discount.”</p>
<p>“Hey, you already offered to pay my rent!” snapped Phoenix. “I don’t know how much more I could accept!”</p>
<p>As if to deliberately change the subject, he turned to look into the passage they had opened together, and Layton angled his lantern so that they could see what they had to look at.</p>
<p>But as far as they could see, it was just more black-veined cave tunnels.</p>
<p>“What do you think might be down here?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>Layton ran his hand over the side of the doorway they had opened. The stone was smooth, almost polished, from the wearing it had endured.</p>
<p>“In all honesty, I can’t possibly be sure,” he responded, and he held up a hand to count on his fingers. “From my experience, there are three possibilities as to what we may find. Option 1: an underground workshop that reveals that every villager in Fatargan is secretly a robot. Option 2: a vein of hallucinogenic gas which is the source of any beliefs that these mountains are haunted. Option 3: a vast underground cavern sheltering a fake city built as a ruse to trick people into believing they’ve travelled through time.”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t respond.</p>
<p>Looking back to find out why, the Professor found that he was being stared at.</p>
<p>“…those are all really specific,” Phoenix said softly. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>The Professor just gave him a smile. He didn’t need to know all the details, after all.</p>
<p>“I’m quite alright, Phoenix,” he replied. “I suppose, ultimately, there’s only one real way to find out.”</p>
<p>He saw Phoenix swallow hard at the sight of what lay beyond the new entrance.</p>
<p>“We go in,” he said grimly.</p>
<p>“Precisely,” Layton said. “This is why I didn’t want to come here alone. At least one of us should be able to return to the cottage and report what happened should anything go wrong.”</p>
<p>“Well, the least you can do is avoid jinxing it!” Phoenix spat. “Let’s just see what’s in… what’s <em>down</em> here.”</p>
<p>Layton looked down at the floor he was illuminating. A steep slope pitted with dents, either eroded or carved for easier walking, and it looked as though the tunnel took a sharp turn around five metres down.</p>
<p>“Perhaps some ropes may have been in order,” he thought aloud, and he took a deep breath.</p>
<p>The air smelled of moss and petrichor, and even though there wasn’t any breeze down here, he still felt a paralysing chill creeping over his skin. He pulled his collar tight around his neck and breathed into his hand to warm himself up.</p>
<p>“You sure you’re alright?”</p>
<p>He hadn’t heard Phoenix approach, but now he was right by his side.</p>
<p>“It isn’t anything I’m not used to,” Layton replied, dismissing the concern with a wave.</p>
<p>But even with that effort, Phoenix was still glaring at him.</p>
<p>“Just be careful,” he said. “This place looks damn risky, so watch where you put your feet.”</p>
<p>The Professor gave him a wry smile.</p>
<p>“And you said <em>I</em> was the one who was, quote, jinxing it?” he pointed out.</p>
<p>He only had a glimpse of Phoenix rolling his eyes as the taller man moved past him, taking the lead as they started down the rough slope.</p>
<p>The dips in the rock proved just the right size and shape for Layton to slip his heels into, but he still pressed his hand against the wall. There could be any number of tiny loose stones in this place, just waiting to slip out from under his shoes and send him tumbling down into the depths of the earth, or wherever it was this passage led to.</p>
<p>Between the veins of coal, the wall was either damp or even colder than it had been at the mouth. Below a certain temperature, it was difficult to tell.</p>
<p>He tried to avoid touching the coal. The last thing he needed was to get his hands dirty again.</p>
<p>“Still think you’ll be okay without gloves?”</p>
<p>In his lantern’s reflected light, Layton could see Phoenix eyeing him in unhidden amusement.</p>
<p>“If anything, I’m even more glad I don’t have them,” Layton told him, still supporting himself on the wall. “The damp in this cave would have made the wool dreadfully slippery and a good deal more dangerous.”</p>
<p>He tried to keep his light steady as the slope evened out, and around the bend, he could see three possibilities for how they could proceed.</p>
<p>The tunnel continued straight on, into stalactite-studded pitch blackness, but another passage branched off and curved away into the rock, and a third seemed like nothing more than a gaping hole in the floor.</p>
<p>“So which way now?” Phoenix shielded his eyes and peered into the darkness. “We don’t have far before the tunnel forks off.”</p>
<p>“Which way indeed…” Layton lowered his light to the ground and the wide opening it bore.</p>
<p>Was that… wood?</p>
<p>“Down,” he decided.</p>
<p>“Down?” Phoenix stared at him in alarm. “Seriously?!”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Layton, and he stepped closer to shine his lantern into the darkness. “Clearly descent was intended at <em>some</em> point.”</p>
<p>He squatted down so that his light was more focused on the wooden construction that sat on the stone floor, standing stable, around two metres tall.</p>
<p>Phoenix kneeled down beside him to get a better look.</p>
<p>“A stepladder?” he said.</p>
<p>“I believe it may simply be a ladder,” Layton corrected.</p>
<p>“You can see the other side of it leaning against the wall right below us,” Phoenix pointed out. “It’s clearly a stepladder!”</p>
<p>“It can still be classed as a ladder, Phoenix,” Layton told him. “Would you not say it could fall under such a broad umbrella?”</p>
<p>At that, Phoenix stared blankly at the ladder with a mutter of “…crud.”</p>
<p>Thinking back, Layton vaguely remembered hearing Maya say something about Phoenix in relation to ladders. Perhaps this had been what she was talking about?</p>
<p>From the way he talked, this was clearly a conversation Phoenix had experienced <em>many</em> times.</p>
<p>Over <em>ladders</em>.</p>
<p>The mere thought of it seemed laughable.</p>
<p>“Could you perhaps help me down?” Layton sat down on the edge of the hole. “I can hold the ladder steady for you once I have my footing.”</p>
<p>“Sure, hang on,” said Phoenix.</p>
<p>He offered his arm, and Layton clung as tightly as he could without hurting the man and used his stability to lower himself down onto the ladder, which rocked unsteadily as he pressed his weight onto the wood. He waited until both of his feet were securely on the rungs and until he had a tight grip on the ladder’s sides before he let go of Phoenix’s arm.</p>
<p>That done, he climbed down to the rock floor, and blew out a relieved sigh as soon as his feet were on solid ground again. A cloud of steam billowed from his mouth as he did so.</p>
<p>He grabbed the ladder and held it steady as Phoenix, wide-eyed and terrified, eased himself down onto the rungs. The way he descended was slow and steady, suggesting that he didn’t trust this thing in the slightest, and he jumped off as soon as he was low enough and bent double to catch his breath.</p>
<p>“Is something wrong?” Layton asked, as this was <em>not</em> normal going-down-a-ladder behaviour.</p>
<p>“I don’t do heights well, okay?” Phoenix panted. “I thought I’d already told you that!”</p>
<p>He straightened up and rubbed his hands together.</p>
<p>“Jeez, it just keeps getting colder!” he complained.</p>
<p>“If your fingers get stiff,” said Layton, “you’re welcome to warm them on my lantern.”</p>
<p>“It’s my nose I’m more worried about!”</p>
<p>“If you rub it with your fingers, you’ll kill two birds with one stone.”</p>
<p>He turned his lantern down the passage they had just entered. It led down further still, a slope equally as steep as the one they had struggled with just earlier and equally as dappled with eroded dents.</p>
<p>Would it really have been so hard to give this place stairs?</p>
<p>Layton took a very careful step down. As the passage above had before it, this tunnel turned a few metres down, but unlike the caves up above, he could see something in his light.</p>
<p>Was that colour? Had someone graffitied on a cave wall?</p>
<p>Or perhaps…</p>
<p>Before the Professor had any more time to think about the possibilities, his attention was caught by sudden, desperate gasping, as though Phoenix was struggling to breathe. Whipping around in alarm, he saw that man squinting, his nose scrunched up, until-</p>
<p>“Ah-CHEURGH!”</p>
<p>The sound resonated around the cave like it had been shouted into a megaphone.</p>
<p>“Bless you.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” said Phoenix, rubbing his nose with a sniff.</p>
<p>Layton stayed rooted to the spot. He didn’t dare move one millimetre.</p>
<p>“…Phoenix?” he said softly.</p>
<p>“Sorry about that,” said Phoenix, looking around at the walls. “Man, I really hope I don’t catch a cold down here-”</p>
<p>“I didn’t say anything,” Layton told him.</p>
<p>Phoenix gave him another stare of bafflement, but the Professor’s heart was pounding too loud for him to care.</p>
<p>“You didn’t?” he asked. “But then who…”</p>
<p>He trailed off.</p>
<p>Layton didn’t want to move. He barely dared to breathe. He saw Phoenix following his lantern’s beam down into the tunnel, but by the looks of things, he too was far too frightened to consider taking one more step down the slope.</p>
<p>There had to be some rational explanation for this, he considered.</p>
<p>Maybe somebody had followed them into the tunnel? No, with how quiet it was in here, they would definitely have been able to hear their footsteps. Somebody who had already been in the cave? No, that wasn’t possible either. He and Phoenix were the only ones in here.</p>
<p>And that voice had sounded like it was speaking right inside his ear.</p>
<p>Like the person speaking was <em>right beside him</em>.</p>
<p>He grabbed his own hand. The one still holding the lantern. Tried to somehow, in <em>any</em> way at all, keep the light from shaking-</p>
<p>“Why are you here?”</p>
<p>Layton’s heart all but stopped.</p>
<p>
  <em>Who in the world had said that?</em>
</p>
<p>“…the thought occurs that this may not have been the best idea,” he said as loud as he dared.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it just occurred to me too,” said Phoenix.</p>
<p>“We should leave.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, totally.”</p>
<p>No mind was paid to the ladder’s height or how rickety it was as Phoenix scrambled up it to the cave’s upper level and pulled Layton up behind him, with Layton clinging to both his hat and Phoenix’s hand for dear life. He almost lost his grip on his lantern as they ran, slipping and struggling, around the corner and up the slope to where the puzzle door had blocked their path.</p>
<p>Only then, when the barred-door exit was in full view, did either of them pause to catch their breath. Phoenix bent double while Layton leaned against the wall for support.</p>
<p>A shot of pain stabbed through his body at his abdomen and he winced and clutched his side.</p>
<p>Just what he needed to top off the panic. A <em>stitch</em>.</p>
<p>“What the hell was that?!” Phoenix spluttered.</p>
<p>“Language!” Layton chastised.</p>
<p>“You’re really worried about swearing at a time like this?!” Phoenix demanded.</p>
<p>The Professor didn’t reply. He drew in the deepest breath he could manage, even though it felt like he was freezing his own throat.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand,” he gasped. “We weren’t followed. We would have seen whoever followed us on our way back up.”</p>
<p>He tugged on his scarf, trying to loosen his throat and allow himself to breathe.</p>
<p>“We would have seen someone if they had been in the cave already,” he pointed out. “That voice didn’t echo-”</p>
<p>“It sounded like it was right in my ear!” cried Phoenix, and he forced himself to straighten up. “Any closer and it would’ve been inside my goddamn head!”</p>
<p>Layton forced himself to breathe slowly. His stitch started ebbing away and his pounding heart finally lowered its intensity.</p>
<p>“Is it possible we had speakers planted on us at some point?” he considered.</p>
<p>“When?” asked Phoenix. “Have either of us been close enough to anyone to get bugged?”</p>
<p>The Professor felt around his hat’s brim. Perhaps something had been planted there while it was in the police station… no, he couldn’t feel anything. Besides which, Phoenix had heard it too, and his hat had only ever been in his custody.</p>
<p>“…no, we haven’t,” Layton realised. “Other than to each other, of course.”</p>
<p>Phoenix clutched a hand to his chest as he forced his own breathing to even out.</p>
<p>“I know you don’t want to believe it,” he said, “but I really, really think this cave is haunted. If not the village, then at least this cave.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure there must be a more rational explanation,” Layton retorted.</p>
<p>Phoenix just stared at him again, clearly waiting for an elaboration.</p>
<p>But no matter how he wracked his brain, Layton came up empty.</p>
<p>“…but I can’t for the life of me think of what it could be,” he confessed.</p>
<p>“Let’s get back to the cottage,” said Phoenix. “I know I’ll be able to think better once I’ve warmed up in front of a fire.”</p>
<p>“Oh goodness, yes,” Layton sighed.</p>
<p>“Did you hear that?”</p>
<p>“I think it was in there!”</p>
<p>The voices had come from outside the cave entrance.</p>
<p>At least, it was probably safe to assume there was more than one voice. Given that both statements had sounded exactly the same, it was almost certainly the two people that Layton and Phoenix wanted to see the <em>least</em>.</p>
<p>Layton flicked his lantern off for safety.</p>
<p>“…the other way out,” said Phoenix.</p>
<p>“Naturally,” said Layton.</p>
<p>He took his friend by the hand and squinted into the darkness, following a faint light from by their side and moving slowly to keep from tripping over any stalagmites that might be nearby.</p>
<p>The moment the unlocked way out came into view, he broke into a run, and he and Phoenix sprinted the rest of the way until they were both outside.</p>
<p>Layton looked up.</p>
<p>“I have goosebumps all over my back,” Phoenix complained. “I don’t know if I’ve ever-”</p>
<p>“My word!” Layton sighed breathlessly.</p>
<p>Phoenix followed his gaze again and saw what had him so captivated.</p>
<p>“<em>…whoa</em>.”</p>
<p>And really, what other reaction could either of them expect?</p>
<p>They had emerged from the cave to a sky that had come alive.</p>
<p>Immense sheets of brilliant blue, edge with green and purple, danced through the atmosphere over their heads, blocking out every star they crossed.</p>
<p>They hung like curtains of vivid light, shimmering, shining, barely moving, undisturbed by any breeze that may have blown through the mountains.</p>
<p>A few thin clouds had coalesced in the sky since the last time either of them had seen it, but somehow, rather than ruining the view, it only made the display more spectacular. More aethereal. More alien.</p>
<p>More <em>beautiful</em>.</p>
<p>This time, Layton’s lack of movement was because he didn’t <em>want</em> to move. He didn’t want to go anywhere. Didn’t even want to do <em>anything</em> that might make him tear his eyes away from the stunning stellar display that wavered above their heads.</p>
<p>He didn’t even want to breathe because he knew it would mist in front of his face and ruin his view.</p>
<p>It was so huge. So bright.</p>
<p>So <em>silent</em>.</p>
<p>“…I had no idea we were far north enough…” he muttered.</p>
<p>It was the quiet that really completed the experience. A sight like this was the sort a person would expect to make noise. Some low humming, perhaps, or at least a whistle of wind, but instead the aurora was utterly silent.</p>
<p>He regretted speaking. He shouldn’t have disturbed that silence.</p>
<p>“I’ve only ever seen auroras in pictures and videos,” he heard Phoenix whisper. “It always looks so <em>fast</em>…”</p>
<p>“…those are generally time-lapses,” Layton explained as softly as he could. “As you can see, it… it tends to remain quite still…”</p>
<p>Even as far above his head as he knew this spectacular display was, he barely wanted to speak. He felt as though talking too loudly would blow it away and ruin the breathtaking scene.</p>
<p>He didn’t want to tear his eyes away. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen <em>anything</em> like this.</p>
<p>“I didn’t even know it could be <em>blue</em>,” Phoenix sighed.</p>
<p>Somehow Layton managed to take his eyes off the sky and look up at his friend’s face, and he found that Phoenix was staring up at the sky, his eyes wide and jaw slack, just as awestruck as Layton felt right now.</p>
<p>The aurora shimmered, reflecting in his eyes.</p>
<p>It was <em>dazzling</em>.</p>
<p>“Is blue your favourite colour?” Layton asked for a reason he couldn’t pin down.</p>
<p>“…yeah,” Phoenix breathed.</p>
<p>Layton looked back up at the sky.</p>
<p>“…mine is orange.”</p>
<p>“…thought so.”</p>
<p>Above the mountains, above the trees, above the <em>clouds</em>. It barely even felt like this was a natural part of their world.</p>
<p>He felt honoured, <em>privileged</em> even, to be able to watch for so long.</p>
<p>To stand here… outside in Fatargan…</p>
<p>…completely exposed…</p>
<p>Much as it felt like a sin, Layton lowered his head and adjusted his hat so that he wouldn’t be tempted to look up again.</p>
<p>“We can’t linger,” he told Phoenix. “Much as I would love to take pause and watch this for the rest of the night, we can’t afford to risk getting caught if those officers are out and about. Come along.”</p>
<p>“W-wait.” Phoenix stopped him before they had even moved a foot and he dug into his jacket’s pocket. “Take this.”</p>
<p>He held out his open hand to the Professor, revealing an amulet that shimmered turquoise in the aurora’s light. Carved from jade, perhaps? It looked like a number 9, or perhaps like a flame.</p>
<p>“What’s this?” Layton took it from Phoenix’s fingers. “Is this your seeing stone?”</p>
<p>“Kind of,” said Phoenix, “but I can see the ghosts without it. You can’t.”</p>
<p>“…I see,” said Layton.</p>
<p>He took a deep breath and raised the amulet to his eye, and through the hole, he looked around at the street they stood before.</p>
<p>His blood curdled in his veins.</p>
<p>Once again, the street was clogged with translucent people, but they weren’t just stumbling around anymore. One was running. One was hammering its fists into another’s face. Some were screaming at the sky.</p>
<p>When one of them looked right at Layton and bared its teeth, a shot of adrenaline pulsed through his body and every hair on his head stood on end.</p>
<p>“Goodness…” What to say that wouldn’t make him look ungentlemanly? “…look at how many there are!”</p>
<p>“They seem a bit riled up,” Phoenix warned. “Check out that one over there.”</p>
<p>He pointed to the nearby post office, where one of the see-through people was not just leaning against the front door, but hammering their head into the wood over and over again, intermittently scratching with what remained of their fingers.</p>
<p>“Either that door cracked a joke about his mom,” said Phoenix, “or-”</p>
<p>“-he’s trying to get inside,” Layton finished grimly.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until Phoenix gave his fingers a squeeze that Layton realised they were still holding each other’s hands, but by this point, it didn’t feel like letting go would be in either of their best interests.</p>
<p>“Stick right behind me,” said Phoenix. “We’ll have to move as slowly as we can.”</p>
<p>Layton tried to swallow his fear.</p>
<p>“I shall think of it like we’re navigating a very tight maze of cacti,” he said. “One wrong move-”</p>
<p>“-would result in one heck of a lot of pain,” Phoenix finished for him. “Exactly. So watch yourself. We’ll have to be careful.”</p>
<p>He stepped ahead of Layton, who kept the amulet pressed to his face.</p>
<p>Small wonder the people of this village were so afraid of going outside at night. The spirits were <em>everywhere</em>. Not only that, but as he had seen just now, they definitely did have tendencies for violence. All he could do was hope they didn’t decide to turn that violence on the living.</p>
<p>He kept his grip tight on Phoenix’s hand as they slowly, carefully, walked over to the stairs to the library, and Layton struggled not to stumble as he had to step over a translucent disembodied leg that lay abandoned on one of the steps. He followed Phoenix’s lead as the taller man weaved left, then right, to avoid walking through figures who were tearing their hair out, scratching their faces and silently <em>screaming</em> at the sky.</p>
<p>The Professor avoided looking up. He didn’t want his view of the aurora to be tainted by this horrific image.</p>
<p>Phoenix gave his hand a squeeze. Layton squeezed back.</p>
<p>As they moved past the library, he saw even more of them. One was standing atop a heap of its unmoving peers and, as Layton watched, it thrust its arm into one of the glass panes that made up the windows before withdrawing it with a noiseless shriek. The window rattled wildly at the motion. Another stood at the door, its head pressed against the wood, scratching at the surface so hard that if that person were still alive, it would have drawn blood.</p>
<p>Hopefully any person looking out their window wouldn’t be able to see Layton or Phoenix through the spectral throng, or if they did, would assume they were a part of it.</p>
<p>Layton kept his grip tight on Phoenix’s hand as they approached the bridge. He took a deep breath and held it at the sight of one of the ghosts, if that was indeed what they were, tossing another over the railing before throwing itself after them into the gorge far below. Were he to release that breath, he had no doubt he would scream in unbridled terror.</p>
<p>How on earth was Phoenix ignoring all of this?!</p>
<p>The Professor considered speaking up. Considered asking him how he was coping. How he was able to resist the fear that permeated every fibre of Layton’s core as they were surrounded on all sides by see-through people attacking themselves and each other and struggling to get inside the village’s buildings.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>No, he couldn’t. That was the worst possible idea.</p>
<p>Thank goodness the throng began to lessen as they steadily crunched through the snow and across the bridge. Perhaps they wouldn’t have been half as frightening if it weren’t for the aurora’s light reflecting off that snow, making it glow bright blue and throwing these figures’ hideous features into sharp relief.</p>
<p>Layton set his jaw. Fixed his eyes forward. Focused on moving ahead.</p>
<p>He had to do anything he could to avoid looking.</p>
<p>If only the morbid curiosity that came with being an Englishman wasn’t so horrifically overpowering…</p>
<p>“…good grief…” he breathed.</p>
<p>They stepped off the bridge. Mounted the stone shelf. They were almost there.</p>
<p>And then an eyeless face appeared mere centimetres from Layton’s nose.</p>
<p>“AH!”</p>
<p>The amulet flew out of his fingers and the spirits vanished from view.</p>
<p>Phoenix whipped around, suddenly on high alert.</p>
<p>“What happened?” he demanded. “Where’s the magatama?!”</p>
<p>“I’m very sorry! I dropped it!” said Layton, not wishing to move in case he was surrounded on all sides.</p>
<p>“Hang on,” said Phoenix, reaching down to the hole the amulet had made in the snow. “Let me- AGH!”</p>
<p>“Phoenix!” cried Layton as his friend fell to his knees.</p>
<p>While Phoenix pressed his hand into the left side of his abdomen, the Professor pulled his free arm over his shoulder and forced himself to forget the crowd of spectral wanderers that no doubt still hovered around them. He ran, dragging his companion by his side, back to their cottage.</p>
<p>He snatched his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door at lightning speed, dragged Phoenix inside and threw that door closed behind them again.</p>
<p>“What happened?” he asked as he locked it.</p>
<p>“I don’t know!” Phoenix was now pressing both hands against his side. “I- ow! I think…”</p>
<p>He leaned against the door as Layton tugged his coat off.</p>
<p>“…while I was distracted,” he said, “one of them-”</p>
<p>“Your left side?” Layton hung his coat on a nearby hook. “Take off your jacket. Let me have a look.”</p>
<p>Phoenix took a deep, hissing breath and pulled his blue jacket off, squinting in what little dim light the streetlamps and aurora afforded them.</p>
<p>“I think one of them took a swipe at me-” he started.</p>
<p>“You’re bleeding through your shirt!”</p>
<p>Layton stared in horror at the growing patch of darkness that was spreading across Phoenix’s left side.</p>
<p>“That can’t be good,” Phoenix said flatly.</p>
<p>The Professor took Phoenix’s shirt by the hem and lifted it aside.</p>
<p>“My word!” he gasped.</p>
<p>No less than five long cuts had been gouged into Phoenix’s skin. They wept blood with every breath and reached right around from just before his back to his stomach, ending only centimetres short of his navel. Even as Layton watched, more blood trickled down Phoenix’s side towards his jeans, sparkling in the faint blue light.</p>
<p>“…how bad is it?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>“You may have been correct about one of them swiping at you,” Layton told him, noting the even spacing and how the outermost scratches were shorter than the rest. “These are very clearly claw marks from a human hand!”</p>
<p>He pulled his lantern out so that he could get a better look, but regretted it almost the moment he had switched it on. The cuts were deep red, stark against Phoenix’s skin, and the trails of blood that seeped down his side were almost neon under the lantern’s light.</p>
<p>“…it hurts…” Phoenix groaned.</p>
<p>“The cuts appear quite shallow,” said Layton. “Deep enough to break skin and cause bleeding, but I don’t think you’ll have suffered any muscle or organ damage. Go and sit down on the sofa. I’ll get a fire going and arrange some water to clean you up.”</p>
<p>He ran to the fireplace, resting his lantern on one of the sofas as he passed, and he piled the fireplace high with twigs, leaves and bark from a bucket that sat beside the grate. He heard Phoenix sit down on a sofa, grunting with effort, as he stacked a log on top of the heap of tinder and reached for a nearby box of firelighters.</p>
<p>“Crud, I can barely see it!” Phoenix said behind him.</p>
<p>Layton slid the solid white block out of the box and broke off a few chunks before slotting them into gaps in the tinder.</p>
<p>“It would appear Luke’s research wasn’t wrong after all,” he thought aloud as he picked up the box of matches. “Curious how they only attacked after I dropped your… you called it a magatama, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>He struck a match (heaven’s sake, it took <em>five</em> attempts to get a flame) and held it to each of the firelighters in turn, and he slotted the protective grille in front of the fireplace once he had some good-sized flames going.</p>
<p>“Yeah, uh, Maya gave it to me,” said Phoenix. “…long story…”</p>
<p>Once he could see that the tinder was catching, he rested the boxes of matches and firelighters beside the grate – careful that they wouldn’t catch – and he turned back and jogged to the kitchenette.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid the water shall have to be quite hot to be effective,” he told Phoenix as he filled the kettle, and once it had started hissing, he opened the cupboards to have a good, thorough rummage. “Not only that, but I’m going to add some soap to make doubly sure you don’t get an infection.”</p>
<p>He found a large mixing bowl right at the back of one of the cupboards, so he set it on the countertop beside the kettle.</p>
<p>“You aren’t going to use hand soap, are you?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>A quick look at the cleaning products under the sink turned up nothing, so Layton picked up the bottle of hand soap beside the sink and squirted some into the bowl.</p>
<p>“I personally would have preferred a proper medical grade disinfectant,” he told Phoenix, “along the lines of Dettol or Milton, but we appear to be lacking in that department.” He cupped the bowl in one arm. “So long as the wounds are treated quickly and with hot water, I would expect us to not have any issues-”</p>
<p>“Oh god, I can see them now and I really wish I couldn’t!”</p>
<p>“Please try to stay calm, Phoenix!” Layton splashed cold water into the bowl from the tap as the kettle neared the end of its boiling cycle. “A higher heart rate will only make the bleeding worse! Get your breathing under control!”</p>
<p>He found a fresh, clean dishcloth as the kettle finished boiling with a <em>click</em>. He pressed up his hat’s brim, careful to keep it away from the steam as he poured the hot water into the bowl.</p>
<p>He tested it with his fingers.</p>
<p><em>Just</em> hot enough.</p>
<p>He cradled the bowl in one arm, struggling not to gasp and wince at the hot glass pressing against his skin through the few millimetres of fabric that kept him safe, and he walked as steadily and carefully as he could to the sofa that Phoenix had sat himself upon. Smart man. He already had his left side facing the fire’s light.</p>
<p>Said fire was roaring nicely by now. The room was quickly warming up.</p>
<p>“You’ll have to lift up your shirt,” Layton told Phoenix as he sat down, and he set the bowl on the floor and his hat on the seat beside him. “Hold it up so that none of the fabric gets caught in the wounds.”</p>
<p>He echoed the motion by tugging his jacket off, and he laid it across the back of the sofa so that it wouldn’t get in the way before rolling his shirt sleeves up.</p>
<p>Phoenix hissed in pain as the air bit at the scratches.</p>
<p>Thank goodness the fire was nice and strong. Turning on the main lights would just disturb the kids.</p>
<p>Layton dropped the cloth into the bowl and tried not to wince as he pulled it back out. Perhaps he had been wrong about his previous assessment; this water was <em>incredibly</em> hot.</p>
<p>“Quite remarkable that your jacket and shirt remain undamaged,” he noted as he wrung out the cloth. “Under most normal circumstances, an injury such as this would have caused quite substantial damage to whatever you were wearing.”</p>
<p>He turned to Phoenix, who now held his shirt right up at his armpit.</p>
<p>“…just my luck, I guess,” he grumbled.</p>
<p>The Professor pressed the hot, damp cloth to the scratches.</p>
<p>“AGH!”</p>
<p>“Is it too hot?” Layton took the cloth back.</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine!” Phoenix lied. “It’s fine, it’s the soap! Gnh, that <em>stings!</em>”</p>
<p>He flinched again as Layton moved in with the cloth, but this time, he only wiped the trickled-down blood off his skin.</p>
<p>“A necessary evil, I’m afraid.” He wrapped the hot cloth around his finger to try to keep it from touching the wounds. “Be glad your clothing <em>didn’t</em> get caught in the wounds. It would have substantially increased your risk of infection.”</p>
<p>As soon as he wiped one trickle away, another fresh droplet sprang forth.</p>
<p>There was nothing for it. He <em>had</em> to clean the wounds before anything else.</p>
<p>He pressed the cloth against Phoenix’s side again.</p>
<p>The sound of his friend cringing and wincing in pain was like a knife through his heart.</p>
<p>When he took the cloth away, it was stained with visible lines of deep red. He dropped it in the bowl again and swilled it around before giving it another thorough squeeze.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to have caused this,” he said as he went back in for another agonising dab. “Perhaps I should have requested Luke’s aid after all.”</p>
<p>“But then he would have been attacked instead!” Phoenix replied through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>The image only flashed through Layton’s mind for a moment – an image of it being Luke instead, his dearest friend, sitting before him bleeding and exhausted – and he tried his hardest to shake it out of his head.</p>
<p>“A fair point,” he decided. “However, upon reflection, it’s very clear that something – or someone – doesn’t want us inside those tunnels.”</p>
<p>He shifted position, pressing the cloth harder into Phoenix’s side.</p>
<p>“Not at night, at least,” Phoenix groaned. “You think it might go better if you try during the day?” Layton shifted again. “Ow…”</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” said Layton.</p>
<p>Phoenix’s hisses and wincing were already cutting through him, but he knew he had to be more thorough. He’d already seen his friend hurt enough. He couldn’t risk an infection on top of that.</p>
<p>He pulled the cloth towards himself, wiping down the length of the cuts.</p>
<p>“Ah! Ow!” Phoenix gasped and panted in pain. “If it helps, I… I don’t hold it against you. This could’ve- <em>ah!</em> It could’ve been your last chance to investigate.”</p>
<p>Layton cleaned the cloth again. It was hard to see the water’s colour in this light, but he could tell it was getting darker.</p>
<p>“I’m sure I can wrangle myself up an expedition to explore the caves more thoroughly once we leave Fatargan,” he assured Phoenix as he wrung out the excess, “but yes. I had an opportunity and I wanted to seize it, although I would never have attempted it had I known it would result in you getting hurt.”</p>
<p>“Hey, it’s fine!” said Phoenix, and he flinched again as Layton went in with the cloth. “Ow… I’ve had my fair share of injuries by now. I think I’ve gotten used to it.”</p>
<p>The Professor froze in horror.</p>
<p>“Phoenix, that is profoundly worrying!” he whispered hoarsely.</p>
<p>Phoenix just sniggered at him, but was soon cut off by another hiss of pain.</p>
<p>“It’s fine, I swear,” he groaned.</p>
<p>Layton pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth to keep himself from speaking.</p>
<p>Whatever he said, it was obvious Phoenix was going to disagree. This man was determined not to view him as guilty in <em>any</em> sense of the word.</p>
<p>Typical defence attorney…</p>
<p>“Although, if you’d prefer to talk about something more, uh…” Phoenix grunted in pain again. “…pleasant, you won’t find me complaining.”</p>
<p>Reminding himself that he was a polite gentleman was really becoming difficult for Layton right now.</p>
<p>“Anything to take our minds off your wounds, the apparently haunted caves and our isolation in this village for a little while would be just fine by me,” he said, forcing himself to speak slowly and avoid snapping.</p>
<p>Rather than tossing the cloth straight back in the bowl again, he wiped away the blood that had dribbled down below the wounds.</p>
<p>“Well, uh…”</p>
<p>The tone of Phoenix’s voice led Layton to hesitate.</p>
<p>What had made him so embarrassed all of a sudden?</p>
<p>“Yes?” he prompted. “What is it?”</p>
<p>He swilled out the cloth again.</p>
<p>“You know earlier when we were talking about music?” Phoenix asked. “About the stuff we can play on the violin from memory?”</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>. No wonder the poor man was suddenly so nervous.</p>
<p>“Ah, certainly,” said Layton as he squeezed the cloth. “Quite a wonderful surprise to have learned not only that you can play, but your playing is rather lovely.”</p>
<p>“Don’t!” Phoenix whined bashfully, but the embarrassment vanished as the cloth came in again. “A-ah… anyway, you said you had some guilty pleasures. You know, from pop music?”</p>
<p>Layton froze again.</p>
<p>“Oh dear,” he muttered. “You want me to be more specific, don’t you?”</p>
<p>He pressed again, eliciting another wince.</p>
<p>“…if you don’t mind,” said Phoenix.</p>
<p>Images flashed through Layton’s mind again. Memories of his youth, hiding away in his room with a well-loved Walkman and heavy, cheap headphones, listening to the stash of CDs that he kept secreted under his bed in an old shoebox…</p>
<p>“…I suppose…” He couldn’t help remembering the faces from those album covers, not to mention that absurd footwear. “…yes, I do owe you for dragging you out at night and getting you hurt.”</p>
<p>“Well?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>The Professor took a deep breath.</p>
<p>He owed this to his friend, he told himself. Phoenix had earned the right to know. He was just going to get annoyed if he was held out on, so the best thing to do would be to just suck it up and tell the truth.</p>
<p>“…the Spice Girls.”</p>
<p>Unsurprisingly, Phoenix snorted.</p>
<p>“You what?!” he laughed.</p>
<p>“Their popularity hit its peak while I was in my teens,” Layton explained, his cheeks growing hotter with every word he spoke. “I was never open about it because I knew my friends would laugh at me, but…” He wiped the wounds as gently as he could. “…I bought every single one of their albums.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god!” Phoenix buried his face in the back of the sofa, shoulders shaking in helpless laughter.</p>
<p>“I never bought any merchandise,” Layton continued, still cleaning the scratches. “Nor did I ever shell out on concert tickets, even when they were performing in a city near mine, and I never went so far as to buy singles on CD because I had told Ma and Pa that the albums were gifts. They would have become suspicious.”</p>
<p>He had a feeling that by this point, his face was roughly the same colour as the band on his hat. Phoenix winced again, but his laughter didn’t stop.</p>
<p>“…this is amazing…” he squeaked.</p>
<p>“When I did listen to the albums, it was always in private,” Layton confessed as he washed the cloth again. “Even when I was alone, I used headphones. My favourite of their songs is Stop. I’m sure you know the one I mean.”</p>
<p>The water was still scalding hot, but he tried not to react as he wrung it out.</p>
<p>When he turned back to Phoenix, the man was staring at him.</p>
<p>“…well?” he said with a worrying little smirk.</p>
<p>“Well what?” asked Layton, rubbing the cloth to work up a lather.</p>
<p>“Are you going to tell me what you want? What you really really want?”</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare!” Layton didn’t hesitate as he went back in with the cloth.</p>
<p>“Ow!” Phoenix cried out in pain, but soon dredged his smile back up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist! The opportunity was right there! I <em>had</em> to!”</p>
<p>Somehow Layton found himself smiling right along with him.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” he said, relieved that at long last, somebody had been told. “I know you weren’t speaking with malice.”</p>
<p>He dabbed at the lowest cut. It looked like it was finally starting to scab.</p>
<p>“Ah, ow…” Then again, perhaps not. “…if it makes you feel better…”</p>
<p>“Oh?” Layton eyed Phoenix with amusement. “Am I about to hear the musical guilty pleasure of Phoenix Wright?”</p>
<p>Phoenix grimaced again, but when his face straightened out, his cheeks had flushed a brilliant red.</p>
<p>“…Elton John,” he said.</p>
<p>Layton continued cleaning his bloodstained skin, waiting for him to continue.</p>
<p>But he didn’t.</p>
<p>“Hm?” He eyed Phoenix’s blush in confusion. “Is that all?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean ‘is that all’?” Phoenix demanded. “You’re not going to laugh at me?”</p>
<p>“Not in the slightest!” Layton replied. “I’ll have you know I enjoy his music quite openly.”</p>
<p>“You lucky jerk!” Phoenix complained as Layton cleaned the cloth again. “Then again, I guess you weren’t an American college student in the early 2010s when it was all-” He hissed again as Layton wiped down the length of the wounds. “…god, so much music back then just <em>sucked</em>, so I’d hide in my dorm room and hype myself up to study with I’m Still Standing.”</p>
<p>“Is that one your favourite?” asked Layton. “Mine is Rocket Man.”</p>
<p>“Ah…” Phoenix took time to wince before he continued. “…nah, my favourite’s Tiny Dancer. I’ve always just felt it was…” Another wince. “…something about it’s just comforting. It’s a real sweet song.”</p>
<p>Layton gave the cloth another rinse. The water was noticeably dark by now. It seemed like the bleeding was finally letting up.</p>
<p>“Why do you say it’s your guilty pleasure?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Ow…” Phoenix cringed, his face still red as a rose. “I listened to his music the most while I was with Dahlia. My girlfriend.”</p>
<p>And since then, he had come to regard that music as something to be ashamed of…</p>
<p>“Not an amicable break-up, I assume?” asked Layton.</p>
<p>Phoenix hit him with a glare.</p>
<p>“She tried to kill me,” he said flatly.</p>
<p>“Ah.” Layton felt himself flush again. “Definitely not amicable then.”</p>
<p>He saw another drop of blood beading on one of the scratches and swept in with the cloth to dab it away.</p>
<p>Perhaps… no, maybe he should just keep it to himself… but then again, that idea seemed silly, maybe even immature…</p>
<p>“If it makes you feel better,” he decided to say, “Claire’s favourite song was an Elton John number.”</p>
<p>Just saying her name was painful.</p>
<p>He hoped he could keep a knot from hardening in his throat.</p>
<p>“Claire?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>Layton took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“My girlfriend,” he explained. “She told me once that Candle in the Wind was her favourite song. She said there was something very sweet about mourning a person you only ever wished you could know, although…”</p>
<p>He trailed off, even though he knew Phoenix was going to push him for more information.</p>
<p>“Did things go wrong with her?”</p>
<p>Yes, there it was.</p>
<p>Layton sighed. As long as he kept his replies simple, he wouldn’t have to dwell too much on the subject he was talking about.</p>
<p>“That song has been poisoned for me,” he told Phoenix. “I can’t listen to it without being struck with grief. A few weeks ago, I was enjoying a cup of tea in my office and listening to the radio when they played that song, and…”</p>
<p>He swallowed. Just as he had feared, he could feel a lump getting hard in his throat.</p>
<p>“I got tears all over the fossil I was cleaning.”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t wince this time as he went back in with the cloth. His fingers twitched, but rather than a grimace of pain, he was frowning.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he said. “How did she die?”</p>
<p>“An experiment gone wrong,” Layton replied. “She was caught in an explosion.”</p>
<p>That was all he needed to say. More to the point, it was all he <em>wanted</em> to say.</p>
<p>He wiped his eyes on the back of his damp, bare hand.</p>
<p>“Ridiculous,” he muttered. “That was twelve years ago and yet it’s still painful to think about.”</p>
<p>“What? What’re you talking about?” asked Phoenix as Layton returned to his cleaning. “If your girlfriend got blown up, no matter how far back it was, you’ve still got every right to be upset about it! Ah, ow…” He hissed through his teeth again. “I know I still feel awful whenever I get to thinking about Mia.”</p>
<p>For a moment, the Professor came close to correcting him and stating that it was ‘Maya’ but with how close she and Phoenix had been, would he really have been wrong about that?</p>
<p>“Mia, you say?” he asked.</p>
<p>“My boss,” said Phoenix. “Maya’s older sister. The reason I was able to become a lawyer.”</p>
<p>His face fell, eyes downcast.</p>
<p>“…she was the victim in my second ever case. A murder case.”</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>.</p>
<p>These weren’t the best circumstances to find oneself matched by, but nevertheless, it was understandable that he may have chosen to admit that here and now.</p>
<p>To think that just moments ago, Phoenix had been teasing him about liking the Spice Girls.</p>
<p>“…my apologies,” said Layton.</p>
<p>“I’m the one who should be apologising,” said Phoenix. “Should’ve known better than to ask about AH!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry!” Layton ripped his hand away from his friend’s body.</p>
<p>“Holy cr… jeez!” Phoenix faltered, clearly wanting to press his hand to his side, as Layton unwrapped the bloodstained cloth from around his fingertip. “It’s fine. I-I’m okay. I know you wouldn’t have done that on purpose, it just… dang, that smarts…”</p>
<p>As he rinsed the cloth again, Layton wondered if that accident was meant to make him stop. It had already been late by the time they ventured out into the village, but if he was making such mistakes as sticking his finger into an open wound, he <em>must</em> have been tired.</p>
<p>Thank goodness he had remembered the soap.</p>
<p>“I wish we had some proper bandages,” he said, and he cleaned up the small, diluted dribble of mess he had made. “All I can do is clean the blood away until it clots and dries. Thank heavens we seem to be almost there.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t mean to shout so loud,” Phoenix said softly. “I hope I didn’t wake the kids up.”</p>
<p>“Not to worry,” said Layton. “Luke could easily sleep through a bomb falling on his house.”</p>
<p>Phoenix snorted in laughter again.</p>
<p>“Trucy’s the same,” he replied. “Some mornings, I have to hold a plate of eggs right in front of her nose and lure her to the kitchen with them, otherwise she won’t get out of bed. Then again, sometimes she has to do the same for me!”</p>
<p>Layton managed a smile. No hard feelings, it seemed.</p>
<p>When he took the cloth away, he counted out a number of seconds.</p>
<p>No more trickles of blood. Nor did the wounds look as bright as they had when they had started.</p>
<p>“I think the bleeding’s stopped,” he told Phoenix, and he dropped the cloth into the bowl. “I’m afraid I don’t have any real bandages.” He stood and took up the bowl. “Of all the things I packed for our journey, a fully stocked first-aid kit wasn’t among them, nor is it among the items provided by whoever is renting this cottage to Luke and I.”</p>
<p>He squeezed out the cloth in the kitchen sink and, after a moment of thought, threw it into the nearby bin.</p>
<p>“At this point, I’d be fine with just a towel duct-taped to my body,” Phoenix said behind him. “Whatever works, works.”</p>
<p>“Not to worry,” Layton replied, and he tipped the bloody water down the sink. “I don’t think that shall be necessary, although you may wish to change into a fresh shirt. It wouldn’t do to walk around wearing a gigantic bloodstain.”</p>
<p>“Hey, it isn’t gigantic!” Phoenix argued back.</p>
<p>The Professor set the bowl beside the sink to be washed tomorrow morning and turned to see, lit up by the fire, Phoenix staring down at the dark patch that had blanketed his shirt’s lower left side.</p>
<p>“…then again, it isn’t exactly small, either,” he decided, and he got to his feet and made a beeline for the bags he had deposited beside the front door.</p>
<p>Layton averted his eyes as he tugged that shirt off.</p>
<p>“Not only that,” he added while facing away, “but I think I would prefer to keep a closer eye on you in case something goes wrong during the night.” He waited until the sound of a zipper had stopped. “If your wound is truly supernatural in nature, we have no way of telling what it could do to you.”</p>
<p>He looked back just in time to see Phoenix straightening his fresh shirt.</p>
<p>“Jeez, way to be ominous, Doctor Doom,” he said, stuffing the bloodstained discard into one of his bag’s pockets.</p>
<p>The Professor turned to him with a frown as he unravelled his sleeves.</p>
<p>“With that in mind,” he continued, “I’d like you to stay as close as possible. That means no sleeping on the sofa.”</p>
<p>“Seriously?” asked Phoenix in unhidden disbelief. “Then where do you expect me to sleep? On the floor?”</p>
<p>Layton shook his head.</p>
<p>Surely he didn’t have to spell it out, did he?</p>
<p>Phoenix was a smart man. A very smart and very <em>practical</em> man. He could put the pieces together.</p>
<p>Sure enough, his blank stare at the Professor filled with astonishment.</p>
<p>“…you’re kidding,” he said.</p>
<p>“Sofas such as these aren’t suited to sleeping, Phoenix,” Layton stated. “You would be far more comfortable in a bed. If you don’t mind Trucy sharing with Luke, then you don’t mind doing it yourself, do you?”</p>
<p>Phoenix stood bolt upright, suddenly bright red again.</p>
<p>“Well, Trucy is one thing, but…” He struggled to keep from touching his left side. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely, Phoenix,” said Layton, affirming his decision with a smile and a nod.</p>
<p>“First you say you’ll pay my rent, then you offer me a job, then you want me to sleep in your bed with you?!”</p>
<p>“Phoenix-”</p>
<p>“Just cut it out already! Quit it with the generosity! There’s no way I’d ever be able to repay any of that, so stop making offers I’d never be able to live up to and-”</p>
<p>“Phoenix, you’re doing it again.”</p>
<p>A brief pass of confusion flickered into horrified regret.</p>
<p>Phoenix took a step back, pressing his fingers into his mess of wild hair.</p>
<p>“…I am, aren’t I?” His hand shifted down to his eye. “…dammit…”</p>
<p>Layton moved closer, ignoring his instincts screaming at him to stay out of punching range, and he pulled Phoenix’s hand down as gently as he could.</p>
<p>“It’s as plain as day,” he said. “You’re exhausted.”</p>
<p>The only response he got was a meek little nod.</p>
<p>“Come on,” said Layton. “You’ll be able to better focus on what to do tomorrow after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”</p>
<p>Phoenix let out a long, worn-out sigh.</p>
<p>“…yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I will.”</p>
<p>Relieved, Layton stepped back, and he filled the bowl at the tap again to put the fire out.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“…hey.”</p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“Hershel?”</p>
<p>“…yes?”</p>
<p>“…thank you.”</p>
<p>“…you’re very welcome.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. The Paintings in the Cave part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Phoenix finished off his tea with one last absurdly large mouthful.</p>
<p>“Okay, time to decide,” he said as he set down his cup and leaned his elbows on the dining table. “How in the heck is today going to work?”</p>
<p>Layton tried to put the ridiculous tea-chugging out of his mind.</p>
<p>“I’m sure Trucy and I wouldn’t want to be seen by the townspeople,” he pointed out. “Odds are they still consider us to be murderer and murderer’s accomplice.”</p>
<p>Trucy leaned forward on her chair and thumped her chin down on the table.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to stay in here all day again!” she complained. “It gets so boring after a while!”</p>
<p>“I thought you guys had fun yesterday?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>“Well, yeah,” Trucy said with a shrug. “But I want a change of scenery, you know? Daddy, this place is barely bigger than our apartment!”</p>
<p>Phoenix looked around at the cottage they were sitting in and gave his daughter a small shrug as if to say ‘yes, I suppose’.</p>
<p>“If you guys like, I could stay here and keep you company.” Luke gave Trucy a friendly smile. “Or…” The smile quickly faded. “Mr Wright, will you need my help again?”</p>
<p>Phoenix pressed a thoughtful hand to his chin.</p>
<p>“I might,” he said. “I don’t think I could be sure until the trial actually starts. I think I’ll have to get a read on Ms Michaela first.”</p>
<p>“It’s safe to assume she won’t be happy to see you,” said Layton.</p>
<p>He watched as Phoenix withdrew on himself in a painful grimace.</p>
<p>“I figured,” he said nervously.</p>
<p>“But isn’t that unfair?” Luke spoke up with a frown. “Lawyers shouldn’t be conflated with the criminals they’re defending, especially if those criminals are innocent like we know the Professor and Mr Edgeworth are!”</p>
<p>“Not much we can do about that,” Phoenix sighed, and he leaned his head on one hand. “You don’t even want to know how many dumb, stupid, repetitive ‘lawyers are evil’ jokes I’ve been forced to overhear at my job back home.”</p>
<p>Trucy threw herself onto his arm.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Daddy!” she said cheerfully. “You can always beat them at poker!”</p>
<p>Phoenix chuckled and poked his hand under her hat to ruffle her hair.</p>
<p>“Good point,” he replied.</p>
<p>Layton cleared his throat for attention.</p>
<p>“If it’s all the same to you three,” he said once he was noticed, “I’d quite like to take a look in the passage we opened last night. I have a feeling there’s something down there that the late Ms Skellig in particular wouldn’t have wanted us to see.”</p>
<p>At the suggestion, Phoenix gave an exaggerated shudder of disgust.</p>
<p>“Are you sure about that?” he asked. “It was pretty damn freaky in there.”</p>
<p>“The time of day may have played a factor in how we perceived the caves, Phoenix,” Layton explained. “As far as I’m concerned, it only makes sense to investigate with a more energised and wakeful mind.”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Luke’s hands thumped on the table as he glared at the Professor in shock. “Professor, you went out investigating without me?!”</p>
<p>No, not just shock. Disappointment. The poor boy very clearly felt like he had missed out on something exciting.</p>
<p>Layton decided to forego explaining what had happened in the darkness. Just thinking back to that voice he and Phoenix had heard, speaking to them, disembodied, right beside them yet invisible, <em>watching them</em>…</p>
<p>It made his skin crawl.</p>
<p>“I’m very sorry, Luke,” he said as calmly as he could. “You had already gone to bed by then and I wanted to leave you to rest.”</p>
<p>This thankfully caused Luke to relax.</p>
<p>“I understand,” he said softly, and his downcast gaze fell back to the table.</p>
<p>But it hadn’t helped him feel better. That much was blatantly obvious.</p>
<p>Layton reached out to comfort him, but before he could get in contact, Luke’s hands curled into fists and he sprang to his feet.</p>
<p>“But if you want to go into those caves, I’m going with you!” he suddenly declared, and Layton leaned away from him in alarm.</p>
<p>“Huh?!” Phoenix seemed equally as taken aback. “You actually <em>want</em> to go in there?”</p>
<p>The Professor tried to gather his thoughts. He had a terrible feeling that if he didn’t keep them in check, then by the end of the morning, they would be all over the place.</p>
<p>“Do understand that these may be either natural caves or empty coal mines, Luke,” he told his fiery apprentice. “Coal dust is a very real hazard we may have to deal with.”</p>
<p>“Not to mention it was goddamn creepy!” added Phoenix.</p>
<p>“You have no idea what could be down there,” Layton pointed out.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” said Luke, “but do you?”</p>
<p>Stalactites, Layton wanted to say. Stalactites and stalagmites and cold, dusty rock that could slip you up if you weren’t careful, veins of coal running all along the walls so you had to be careful where you put your hand to support yourself if you didn’t want to leave conspicuous prints everywhere you went…</p>
<p>…and something, <em>someone</em> lurking in the shadows and the cold, that didn’t want its home to be disturbed…</p>
<p>“That’s <em>why</em> I want to go with you!” cried Luke before the Professor had a chance to say any of that. “What if something happened to you and you couldn’t get back out by yourself?”</p>
<p>His eyes wavered as he stared his mentor down.</p>
<p>His hands, still curled into tight fists, quivered by his side.</p>
<p>Layton, however, made a show of adjusting his hat, keeping his eyes on Luke as he did so and hoping the boy would understand the message; a gentleman did <em>not</em> make a scene in public.</p>
<p>Luke’s gaze softened.</p>
<p>He relaxed his hands and sat back down with a sigh.</p>
<p>Thank goodness.</p>
<p>“This is why I wanted to come up to Fatargan with you in the first place,” he said, his voice calmer and more level. “I want to help you with your investigation, Professor. I want to help you solve a mystery, just like before!”</p>
<p>A painful pang of guilt stabbed into the Professor’s heart.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Luke,” he said as sincerely as he could. “I had no idea that I would upset you so much.”</p>
<p>Luke didn’t reply.</p>
<p>“I need you to understand that our investigation could be dangerous,” Layton continued. “Are you sure you want to come with me?”</p>
<p>“The fact that it could be dangerous makes me <em>more</em> sure,” said Luke. “Please, Professor! I want to go with you!”</p>
<p>There was no way he was going to let himself be dissuaded.</p>
<p>More to the point, now that he was taller, older, stronger and smarter, he would all but certainly prove to be an even better assistant than ever before.</p>
<p>Layton gave him a smile.</p>
<p>“Very well,” he said. “It would be a joy to work with you again.”</p>
<p>Luke lit up like the sun.</p>
<p>“Thank you!” he cried joyfully. “Thank you, Professor!”</p>
<p>The Professor gave his faithful assistant a fond little pat on the head.</p>
<p>“And you know how you’ll avoid being seen?” asked Phoenix, causing Layton to suddenly remember that he was right across the table. “We’re in the middle of the day right now. People won’t be hiding inside like they did last night. You could be seen at any moment!”</p>
<p>A very valid point, Layton considered, but one that Phoenix seemed to be overthinking somewhat.</p>
<p>“We should be able to avoid them if we plan accordingly,” Layton pointed out.</p>
<p>“Then how about telling me your plan so I’m not worrying all through the trial?” Phoenix asked with a smile that he probably thought was calm.</p>
<p>“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Luke. “This trial is for the person suspected of killing this town’s <em>mayor</em>. Not only that, but from what we could tell, everybody loved her. The entire village is bound to be there!”</p>
<p>“And once that trial begins,” Layton continued, “we can slip across the bridge unnoticed. None of the villagers will be any the wiser.”</p>
<p>Beside him, Luke held up his hand for a rather ungentlemanly high-five. Perhaps not his thing, but Layton knew better than to leave a friend hanging, so he tapped his knuckle against his apprentice’s palm.</p>
<p>“That’s actually pretty smart,” Trucy said thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“No kidding,” said Phoenix. “Are you sure your major was in archaeology and not psychology?”</p>
<p>“Nothing psychological about it,” said Luke. “It’s just basic logic!”</p>
<p>Phoenix stared at him.</p>
<p>“…like a puzzle,” he realised.</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Layton said happily.</p>
<p>Trucy leaned to whisper hoarsely to her father:</p>
<p>“Daddy, they’re nerds!”</p>
<p>Layton couldn’t help but laugh, even as Phoenix buried his face in his hand in embarrassment.</p>
<p>“Hang on a sec,” he said suddenly. “Luke, if you go with Hershel-”</p>
<p>“Huh?” said Luke.</p>
<p>“-and Hershel, if you guys go out to explore those caves-”</p>
<p>“Since when were you guys on a first name basis?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“-what do you expect Trucy to do?” Phoenix asked instead of addressing the question. “I’m not leaving my daughter here all by herself.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Layton as Trucy gasped in alarm, “I can see how that could be problematic.”</p>
<p>“Hey, I don’t mind being alone here!” Trucy said angrily. “I know I said it was boring, but if I’m by myself, that means I can practise my tricks!”</p>
<p>“Why can’t you do that anyway?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“Because a true magician <em>never</em> reveals her secrets,” Trucy said proudly, and she crossed her arms to drive her point home.</p>
<p>Unfortunately for her, her father wasn’t impressed, if his glare was any indication.</p>
<p>“Truce, <em>no</em>,” he said sternly.</p>
<p>“Why not?” asked Trucy. “You know me, Dad! You know I’d be totally fine!”</p>
<p>“I know we’ve talked about how the odds are low,” said Phoenix, “but what if someone just happened to see you through the window? Even your shadow would be enough to give you away. Or what if someone heard you and decided to come and investigate?”</p>
<p>His question caused Trucy’s prideful pout to slip away into nothing.</p>
<p>“…I’d be done for,” she said softly.</p>
<p>“You’d be done for, exactly!” Phoenix told her.</p>
<p>“Then what’s she going to do?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>Layton cupped his chin, humming to himself, and ran his finger down his jaw.</p>
<p>No matter what she said, there was no way it would be a good idea for Trucy to stay in this cottage all by herself. Maybe she was intelligent and sensible for a ten-year-old girl, but that being said, she was still a <em>ten-year-old</em> girl. Surely there would be several laws they would be breaking by allowing her to stay here alone.</p>
<p>It could be a bad idea to let her follow the Professor and Luke. They had no idea how deep those caves ran, nor how dark or cold they could become. Rough terrain was a possibility and it would be disastrous if she got hurt. Phoenix would never forgive them if she fell into a crevasse or got trapped by a sinkhole hidden under a mica deposit.</p>
<p>But nor would it be ideal for her to follow her father to the trial. The people of Fatargan would be <em>very</em> suspicious of a mysterious, unfamiliar child who had appeared out of nowhere to help Phoenix win the day, and Layton had a feeling they wouldn’t be able to pass her off as a ghost, no matter which bedsheet she cut eye holes in.</p>
<p>If she <em>did</em> reveal her identity, the citizens would likely turn on Phoenix for sheltering a fugitive, as it would immediately become obvious that someone had been caring for her in the days before her vanishing trick, and who would have seen to that if not her father? He would already be painting a target on his back by defending Mr Edgeworth. He didn’t need even more accusations to throw onto the dragon’s horde of hatred he had accumulated over the past few days.</p>
<p>Or over the past couple of years, Layton thought to himself.</p>
<p>So what could she do? How could this girl do everything possible to keep herself out of trouble?</p>
<p>Before he had a chance to come up with a solution, Trucy leapt to her feet, standing on her chair with her finger aimed at the ceiling.</p>
<p>“Then I’m going with Uncle Hershel!” she declared.</p>
<p>“Huh?!” Phoenix looked like he could fall off his chair any moment.</p>
<p>“You guys can’t think of anything else, can you?” Trucy pointed out. “I can’t go to the courtroom with Daddy or else everybody will recognise me! And don’t say I could go in disguise! How many girls my age are there in this village?”</p>
<p>Phoenix kept staring at her in shock.</p>
<p>“…and how many of them would tolerate helping me?” he asked, voice quietened by defeat.</p>
<p>“Exactly!” Trucy replied.</p>
<p>Her poor father turned his pleading eyes to Layton.</p>
<p>“Hershel, what do you think?” he asked, clearly begging for help.</p>
<p>A shame that all Layton could do was disappoint him.</p>
<p>“I think it’s the only idea we have to work with right now,” he replied, and he gave Trucy a friendly smile. “I certainly don’t have any issue with such a lovely young lady accompanying us on our exploration.”</p>
<p>Trucy gasped in joy and lowered her dramatic finger.</p>
<p>“Trucy,” said Luke, “if our previous experiences are anything to go by, I honestly don’t know what we should expect to find in those caves. Obviously it could be dangerous, but even if it isn’t, it could get pretty scary. Do you think you could handle it?”</p>
<p>She nodded, scrunching up her face in over-the-top confidence.</p>
<p>Thinking back, Luke had only been ten years old on his first adventure with the Professor, hadn’t he?</p>
<p>So yes, this was surely going to be fine.</p>
<p>“In which case, young Trucy,” said Layton, “you’re welcome to join us.”</p>
<p>“Yes!” Trucy punched the air in triumph.</p>
<p>“Good,” sighed her far less enthusiastic father.</p>
<p>He looked up at the clock.</p>
<p>“Dammit, it’s almost ten!” He threw himself out of the chair and ran to the front door and its hooks. “I have to go. You be careful, Truce.” He yanked his beanie down onto his head.</p>
<p>“I will, Daddy!” Trucy said peppily.</p>
<p>“You guys too,” Phoenix added as he pulled on his jacket. “It won’t be a cute look if I return to civilisation as the last person to have seen Professor Layton and his companion alive.”</p>
<p>“We’ll be fine!” Luke replied. “…I think.”</p>
<p>Layton, meanwhile, looked between the father and daughter as the former tossed his scarf around his neck.</p>
<p>“Uncle Hershel?” he quoted.</p>
<p>Phoenix just shrugged as he opened the front door, tugging his gloves out of his pocket with his free hand.</p>
<p>“Welcome to the family, I guess,” he said flatly.</p>
<p>And with that, he stepped out into the cold and departed.</p>
<p>Layton pressed himself to his feet and gathered up the used teacups.</p>
<p>“Very well, then,” he said as he carried them to the sink. “Let’s get ready to move out.”</p>
<p>He heard the chairs scraping behind him and the sound of shoes on floorboards, shortly followed by a clatter of thumps, a soft grumble and a muffled giggle from Trucy as Luke tripped over the table leg while getting up.</p>
<p>He took his time positioning the cups and saucers behind the sink so that he could press down his smile as Luke blew out an exasperated breath.</p>
<p>“Professor, what did you find in there?” the annoyed teen asked. “What should Trucy and I expect?”</p>
<p>Once he was done and safe in his poker face, Layton joined Luke in retrieving his coat from beside the door.</p>
<p>“I’ll say that you should wrap up warm,” he instructed, pressing his shirt and jacket sleeves against his wrist as he slipped his arms in. “We may have to venture quite deep into the ground…” He tugged his coat closed around his chest. “…and it gets colder the further down you go, so gloves, scarf and coat are a must.”</p>
<p>“What about you, Uncle Hershel?” Trucy asked while Luke fastened his toggles. “I didn’t get your gloves back from the cops ‘coz they’ve still got blood on them!”</p>
<p>“Oh, hold on one moment!”</p>
<p>Luke ran into his bedroom, untied scarf trailing from his neck as he disappeared behind the door.</p>
<p>Trucy, meanwhile, tucked her own scarf into the back of her cloak, and Layton took the opportunity to button up his coat.</p>
<p>“This could be your last chance to decide, Trucy,” he told her. “Are you completely certain you want to follow us?”</p>
<p>The question prompted another indignant pout.</p>
<p>“No way I’m just staying here and letting you guys have all the fun!” the pouter complained.</p>
<p>“Calling these adventures ‘fun’ is entirely subjective!” Luke called from the other room. “There’s nothing fun about watching screaming women in cages being dropped into incinerators!”</p>
<p>Before Trucy or Layton had a chance to say another word, he emerged from his room with a bundle of tightly knitted black wool clutched in his hand.</p>
<p>“Professor, take these.” He opened his hand to reveal a fresh set of gloves. “I packed a spare pair in case you needed my gloves to MacGyver something to get us out of trouble.”</p>
<p>Layton hesitated.</p>
<p>It took several seconds of processing that statement for his mind to produce a reply that wouldn’t make him look like a fool.</p>
<p>“That’s very considerate,” he settled upon as he accepted the gloves. “Thank you.” He tugged one onto his hand and flexed his fingers; they were a little small, but nothing he couldn’t tolerate. “I’m not sure what you expect me to have used a pair of gloves for other than protecting my hands, but-”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding?” Luke spluttered as he knotted his scarf. “You’re Professor Layton! Knowing you, you would’ve turned gloves, some rocks and a lump of snow into a mobile phone that could call, text and play Tetris!”</p>
<p>The Professor couldn’t help but laugh at the bizarre mental image.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure if I’m <em>quite</em> on that level,” he remarked, “but it’s very touching to know you think so highly of me.”</p>
<p>Luke responded with a bashful little smile.</p>
<p>“Hey, didn’t you do something like that with a curtain one time?” Trucy piped up.</p>
<p>“There are quite a few differences between a glider and a mobile phone, Trucy,” Layton pointed out. “Differences that extend far beyond being able to fit inside one’s pocket.”</p>
<p>Luke, meanwhile, finished tucking his scarf into his coat.</p>
<p>“Okay, I’m ready,” he said. “You guys?”</p>
<p>Layton brushed down and straightened his coat.</p>
<p>“Fully prepared, my boy,” he reported.</p>
<p>“All wrapped up and ready to go!” Trucy cheered, bouncing on her heels.</p>
<p>The Professor took a glance at the nearby clock.</p>
<p>“The time is… 9:53am,” he read, and he twitched the kitchen curtains aside to look out. “Mr Edgeworth’s trial should begin in a few minutes. I do hope Phoenix makes it to the hall in time.” He stepped back from the window before any outside lurkers could get a chance to notice him. “It wouldn’t do him any favours to be late to the courtroom.”</p>
<p>“Most of the village should be there by now, shouldn’t they?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“They’d better be.” Trucy crossed her arms with another dramatic pout. “I <em>hate</em> it when the audience arrives late. It always means I have to delay the performance and it <em>sucks!</em>”</p>
<p>Upon reaching the front door, Layton stood on tiptoe to check through the frosted glass window.</p>
<p>“I can’t see anybody outside,” he told his companions. “I think we may be safe.”</p>
<p>“Okay, let’s go,” said Luke, shuffling in his coat to ‘hype himself up’ as Phoenix had phrased it. “We’ll have to move quickly.”</p>
<p>Layton nodded.</p>
<p>He opened the front door and held it open for the youngsters to depart, and made sure the door was locked behind them.</p>
<p>A strange sense of foreboding crept up his back as he turned the key.</p>
<p>Something in the back of his mind told him to treasure this moment. That it could be a considerable amount of time before he had a chance to come back to this place.</p>
<p>Even so, he couldn’t keep his trusty assistants waiting.</p>
<p>He pocketed the key and held onto his hat.</p>
<p>As the only member of the trio not wanted by law, Luke led the charge – or awkward bent-over single file shuffle, rather – through the stamped down snow along the edges of the little plaza. The crunch underfoot was even more uncomfortable to hear than it had been in the days prior, as in the early morning silence devoid of even the lightest breeze, the layers of ice crushing under their weight was deafening.</p>
<p>It was a sound that irritated Layton at the best of times, but with their desperate need to stay quiet and inability to avoid that unsettling scrape of rubber against ice, it was like a pickaxe straight through his brain via the ears.</p>
<p>If only he had thought to bring earmuffs. Perhaps then the sound could have been muffled.</p>
<p>When Luke motioned for them to stop as they reached the bridge, Layton glanced back to make sure that yes, Trucy was still following behind and wasn’t having any problems keeping up with either of the seasoned adventurers. She even flashed Layton a cheerful thumb’s up before leaning to one side to keep her eyes on Luke.</p>
<p>Still keeping hold of his hat, if for no reason other than the sensation of the brim under his fingers was comforting, Layton waited for Luke to give the signal to move. The moment it came, they were off again, this time hugging the bridge’s railing and doing their best not to look over it into the gorge far below, lest vertigo reach up and drag them down into the cold, rocky deep.</p>
<p>Curiosity was a difficult enemy to fight, however, and Layton allowed himself the briefest of glances into the shadows.</p>
<p>In that miniscule space of time, he saw something shiny and red poking out of the snow.</p>
<p>So it seemed Mr Edgeworth hadn’t been exaggerating or lying about his car.</p>
<p>Layton fixed his eyes back on the snow before dizziness could overwhelm his mind. He didn’t want to look for long enough to figure out if this gorge was as deep as it had first appeared.</p>
<p>God, the sound of snow being walked on was like if bones breaking could somehow be <em>rubbery</em>.</p>
<p>Not only that, but Phoenix had been fully correct in his summation of this bridge. Far too open. Far too exposed. Absolutely <em>not</em> constructed with sneaking fugitives in mind.</p>
<p>It was difficult not to hold his breath. He had to remind himself to keep going. Keep breathing even if his throat was freezing, keep breathing to prevent himself from tensing up and stopping dead in the middle of this very open and <em>very</em> exposed bridge.</p>
<p>He didn’t allow himself to come anywhere close to relaxing until they had made it all the way across the bridge and taken up a secluded position behind the library, just like he had with Phoenix last night.</p>
<p>His nose was already beginning to sting from the cold.</p>
<p>“Where do we go from here, Professor?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>Layton pressed his scarf over his face and breathed into it to warm himself up.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I’m not certain,” he said once he had repositioned it. “There are two possibilities for our entry to the caves and each has an equal balance of benefits and drawbacks.”</p>
<p>“Tell us quick!” Trucy clenched her fists in determination. “The sooner we get in there, the better!”</p>
<p>Before he replied, Layton moved past his companions and looked around the building’s corner to check that the area was devoid of watchers.</p>
<p>It was so much easier to concentrate without the windows rattling above him.</p>
<p>Even with as empty as the streets were, he leaned back just in case.</p>
<p>“Option one is behind us,” he told the kids. “It’s up the steps near the village post office and it’s how Phoenix and I got outside last night without being seen. The benefit is that it’s more isolated from the rest of Fatargan, but the drawbacks are that not only is it further away from our current position, but far less sheltered.”</p>
<p>Luke sighed and slumped against the wall.</p>
<p>“We’d be exposed,” he groaned.</p>
<p>“Precisely,” said Layton. “And if that entry point is somehow barred, that means even more time in the open as we try to break in.”</p>
<p>“I have my lockpicks with me just in case!” Trucy said cheerfully.</p>
<p>Layton hoped the look he was giving her was disapproving enough.</p>
<p>“Because what we need right now is even <em>more</em> illegal activity,” grumbled Luke.</p>
<p>Trucy giggled, although it was hard to tell whether she was bashful or playfully wicked.</p>
<p>The Professor took another look out at the path to the Sacred Well.</p>
<p>“Option two is beyond the bell tower,” he explained, “and is the method by which Phoenix and I gained entry to the caves last night.”</p>
<p>He leaned back.</p>
<p>“The benefit is that it’s far more sheltered than the other entrance,” he continued, “and it presents a great deal more possibilities for hiding should that become a necessity.”</p>
<p>Luke’s eyes widened and Trucy gasped in delight.</p>
<p>“The drawback?” said Layton. “It’s right beside the police station.”</p>
<p>And just like that, their joy slipped away.</p>
<p>“The station?!” Trucy balked in horror.</p>
<p>“I don’t think we could’ve asked for a bigger drawback,” Luke said softly.</p>
<p>Layton nodded in quiet agreement.</p>
<p>“I know that I have a reputation as a lover of puzzles,” he stated, “and it’s hardly a reputation I’m upset about, but I feel I must ask for your opinions on this matter. Which direction do you two believe we should go in order to best avoid being apprehended?”</p>
<p>Both of the kids went silent in thought. Trucy tapped her finger on her chin, eyes cast skyward, and Luke rubbed his finger over his cheek.</p>
<p>The Professor, for his part, ran the situation over in his mind again.</p>
<p>To use the entrance near the post office would put them at more risk of being discovered, but with as sheltered as the station entrance was, the people who <em>could</em> come across them there would be significantly more dangerous. They had a toss-up between getting caught by someone who’d be furious to see them and getting caught by someone who would arrest them all on sight.</p>
<p>He looked down at his companions, who were still deep in thought. Both of them were <em>far</em> too young to have a criminal record. Not only that, but with Luke being older and more mature than Trucy, he was sure to receive a far harsher punishment.</p>
<p>Was fifteen old enough to be tried as an adult?</p>
<p>He honestly had no idea.</p>
<p>Perhaps that was something to ask Phoenix once all of this had blown over.</p>
<p>Nearby, Luke cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“I’m going to hate myself for saying this,” he sighed, “but I think the entrance by the station is our best option.”</p>
<p>Trucy curled her hand into a fist with a grimace of distaste.</p>
<p>“You two have to stay as out of sight as you can,” Luke pointed out, “and the closer entry with more potential hiding places makes the most sense when we think about that. Plus if someone does come along, I’ll be able to vouch for you.”</p>
<p>“Ooh, Luke!” Trucy brightened up in an instant. “If it’s locked, you can keep watch while I’m picking! Professor, you could just stay hidden, right?”</p>
<p>Layton fidgeted his fingers on his hat’s brim. Maybe its height was a drawback right now…</p>
<p>“I would prefer to keep watch as well, if it’s all the same to you,” he replied. “For all we know, some person could approach from inside the caves. We wouldn’t want to get caught in <em>that</em> manner, would we?”</p>
<p>“No, definitely not,” said Luke. “After how hard we’ve tried to stay hidden, that’d just be embarrassing.”</p>
<p>“Indeed,” Layton said. “Station entrance it is, then. Let’s hurry before we risk any latecomers stumbling upon us.”</p>
<p>Luke nodded and pushed past him to look around the corner.</p>
<p>He ran along the wall, keeping his head low, and the Professor followed close behind with Trucy heading up the rear. Reaching the next corner, he looked around again, not just ahead but up the nearby steps.</p>
<p>He looked back and nodded.</p>
<p>All clear.</p>
<p>Bending double as they had on the bridge, the trio of impromptu investigators hurried across the little square, past the steps and between the bell tower’s legs, staying low but moving fast until they reached the police station and hid behind its corner.</p>
<p>Layton held his breath as Luke inspected the path between here and the Sacred Well, and when the boy motioned for them to keep moving, they ran past the building’s front door and didn’t stop until they reached the barred cave entrance from last night.</p>
<p>The chains were back in place, just as they had been hours before. Unlike hours before, however, the padlock was firmly shut and holding the chain in place.</p>
<p>Luke cradled it in his finger with a frown.</p>
<p>“Oh dear,” said Layton, recalling the voices he and Phoenix had heard before they left. “That’s what I was afraid might happen.”</p>
<p>When Luke released the padlock, it just gave a dull clank against the thick chains.</p>
<p>“You can get us in, can’t you, Trucy?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Who do you think I am?” Trucy demanded proudly. “I’m Magical Girl Trucy Wright, bane of the key and every secret keeper’s worst nightmare!”</p>
<p>“Very well, Magical Girl,” Layton chuckled. “Go ahead and weave your enchantments for us.”</p>
<p>“You got it!” cried Trucy, and she thrust her hand into her bag to rummage around.</p>
<p>While Luke took up position by the police station’s corner and leaned against it as casually as he could, Trucy produced one of her tools: a thin strip of metal soldered to the end of a handle.</p>
<p>“I don’t think you showed me that one,” said Layton as she twisted the lock this way and that, trying to get a proper look at it. “Can you tell me what it’s called?”</p>
<p>“It’s a shim,” Trucy told him. “You can’t go into the keyhole with padlocks unless it’s a real big one. Too tight. With locks like this, you need to… hmm…”</p>
<p>“Is something wrong?”</p>
<p>“…this lock’s pretty old… I <em>think</em> I can get it open, but we might have to use a big rock.”</p>
<p>She pressed her shim against the hoop and slid it down into the main body of the lock.</p>
<p>Layton looked back at Luke, still leaning against the nearby wall, and around at the empty path they were on.</p>
<p>It felt strange to be out here like this on such a quiet morning. There should have been people crossing through, headed to buy groceries or make appointments with Dr Wallace, <em>anything</em> that made sense for people to do at this time of day.</p>
<p>But the only sound he could hear was the eerie whistle of wind blowing through the cave they were breaking into.</p>
<p>It gave a very distinct impression of unwelcomeness. Even the feeling of that wind against his cheeks was enough to make his skin crawl.</p>
<p>He leaned in closer to the bars and peered into the darkness.</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>No movement whatsoever.</p>
<p>It seemed like they were safe for the moment-</p>
<p>“Oh no, someone’s coming!” gasped Luke.</p>
<p>A thrill of panic shot through Layton’s mind as he looked around for somewhere to hunker down, Trucy freezing in place below him.</p>
<p>“Do we have time to-” he started.</p>
<p>“No, they’re coming from the bridge side!” Luke whispered hoarsely.</p>
<p>“Alright, give me a moment-”</p>
<p>“We don’t HAVE a moment!”</p>
<p>“But I have an idea!” said Trucy, and she tugged off one of her gloves. “Professor, lean down and stay still!”</p>
<p>“Hm? Why?” Layton leaned down nonetheless, lowering his face almost to Trucy’s eye level.</p>
<p>She rubbed her fingertips on a black vein visible in the cave wall.</p>
<p>“…what are you doing with that coal?” he asked, a sense of foreboding boiling in his stomach.</p>
<p>“Just keep still and don’t say anything!” Trucy whispered, and she pressed a blackened fingertip against the Professor’s face. “On my signal, hold onto your hat, close your eyes and only open your mouth when I step on your foot!”</p>
<p>Layton stayed frozen as she smudged her fingers over his cheeks and upper lip.</p>
<p>“Trucy, what’re you up to?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“Ssh!” Trucy hissed.</p>
<p>Luke checked around the corner again.</p>
<p>“Whatever you’re doing, get a move on!” he hissed.</p>
<p>“Hello?” said a nearby masculine voice. “Who’s there?”</p>
<p>“Okay, I’m done!” Trucy wiped her fingers on her dress and pulled her glove back on. “Now do as I said!”</p>
<p>Layton straightened up. He had a good inkling as to what she had just drawn on his face, but all he could do was pray that Luke decided not to share the details of what was happening with everybody he knew at his school.</p>
<p>“I do hope you know I’m trusting you with my life,” he told Trucy, and then he closed his eyes and placed his hand on his hat’s brim.</p>
<p>“Good grief!” said the stranger’s voice as Trucy positioned Layton’s hand on the back of her neck. “It’s that little magician girl!”</p>
<p>No, it wasn’t a stranger, was it? Surely he’d heard that voice before!</p>
<p>He allowed Trucy to twist him around and held himself as steady as possible, holding his breath.</p>
<p>“Oh!” he heard Trucy say. “Good morning, Mr and Mrs Teeve!”</p>
<p>Ah, so <em>that</em> was why the voice was familiar.</p>
<p>“You’re still alive!” Neggy Teeve boomed. “Remarkable! And I see you still have that puppet with you! This is the bloke Ray and Ven were shouting about, eh?”</p>
<p>“I certainly am and I certainly do!” Trucy said cheerfully, and Layton felt a soft pressure on his foot. “Say good morning to Mr and Mrs Teeve, Mr Hat!”</p>
<p>When she pressed down harder, Layton tipped his head back, mouth wide open, in the least organic lip flap he could manage.</p>
<p>“Good morning to Mr and Mrs Teeve, Mr Hat!” he heard Trucy say through the corner of her mouth.</p>
<p>Mr Teeve’s laugh was hearty and loud.</p>
<p>“Very convincing, isn’t he?” he chuckled. “Spitting image of that Layton murderer!”</p>
<p>Layton continued holding his breath and leaned back under the sudden pressure of a finger in the middle of his forehead. He <em>had</em> to lean back. Had to give the impression that he was virtually weightless.</p>
<p>“Heaven’s sake, Neginald, don’t touch the thing,” he heard Posy Teeve complain. “You’ll only get your ash all over it!”</p>
<p>The Professor pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth to keep himself from laughing, but even as he did so, he heard a long, painful snort.</p>
<p>“Ah, I say, young man,” said Mr Teeve. “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>“Yep!” Luke’s voice was high and strained from struggling not to laugh. “Yes, I’m fine!”</p>
<p>“And just what in the world are the two of you doing out here?” asked Mrs Teeve. “Especially you, young lady. I would think you’re driving your parents <em>mad</em> with worry!”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Mrs Teeve!” Trucy said peppily. “Daddy knows I’m okay. He knows I’m a smart girl and I can totally handle a few inches of snow!”</p>
<p>Layton gritted his teeth and hoped nobody would notice his jaw tensing up. His chest was screaming. He <em>needed</em> to breathe. Why couldn’t these people just keep moving?!</p>
<p>“So I see,” said Mrs Teeve.</p>
<p>“And if you get desperate, I’m sure you could break this fella up for firewood, eh?” asked Mr Teeve.</p>
<p>“What? No!” cried Trucy. “I couldn’t do that to Mr Hat! You don’t want to be burned, do you?”</p>
<p>She pressed on Layton’s foot again.</p>
<p>“Take my life!” he pretended to say. “Please!”</p>
<p>Trucy sighed.</p>
<p>“Honestly, Mr Hat!” No doubt she had folded her arms in annoyance. “You really don’t have any idea what’s good for you!”</p>
<p>Mr Teeve laughed again. Still holding his hat, Layton’s arm was starting to ache. Good lord, why couldn’t they just <em>leave</em>…</p>
<p>“Young lady, you are just too much!” he said happily.</p>
<p>“Neggy, we really must be going,” his wife sighed. “Unless we get a move on, we won’t be able to get a decent seat.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” said Trucy. “What’s happening?”</p>
<p>“Eh?” exclaimed Mr Teeve. “Surely you’ve heard that our mayor got bloody murdered, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“Language, Neggy, she’s a child!” snapped Mrs Teeve.</p>
<p>“And your father’s going to be up there trying to defend the bloke responsible!” Neggy added. “Our own bloody Minstrel, no less!”</p>
<p>Posy added an exasperated tut.</p>
<p>“I do hope he loses,” she sighed. “I knew that young man would be trouble the moment he showed up. Never trust a man who wears a necktie outside his collar, that’s what I say!”</p>
<p>More pressure on his foot.</p>
<p>“What about a top hat?” Layton pretended to say.</p>
<p>Somewhere nearby, Luke squealed under the force of his suppressed laughter.</p>
<p>“They’re in the same boat!” snapped Posy. “As far as I’m concerned, top hats and cravats are only worn by murderers!”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Trucy gasped. “You think I’m a murderer?!”</p>
<p>“Perhaps not a murderer yourself,” Posy replied, “but you helped that Professor run away, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>Trucy gasped again, but it sounded shorter and more choked.</p>
<p>“I didn’t kill anyone!” she cried. “How could you say something like that?!”</p>
<p>The sounds of her sobbing were exaggerated, but muffled, no doubt by her hands over her face so that nobody could see her lack of tears. Layton could only hope that he hadn’t started trembling from the strain of holding his breath.</p>
<p>“Oh dear,” sighed Mr Teeve.</p>
<p>“Come along then, Neggy,” said his wife. “I think it’s time we were moving on.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I think so too,” said the suddenly awkward-sounding Neggy. “Do stay out of trouble, you two! And take care of this thing while you’re at it, he’s fantastic.”</p>
<p>Layton leaned back again under another poke at his forehead.</p>
<p>The sound of crunching footsteps again. Thank <em>goodness</em>.</p>
<p>“Honestly, Neggy, you’re so weak to cheap tricks,” said the retreating voice of Mrs Teeve. “Didn’t you see her operating that thing with her foot?”</p>
<p>“She’s just a little girl!” her husband replied. “Of course I’m going to humour her! Especially after you made her cry!”</p>
<p>Were they still too close? Was it safe to breathe again? Layton didn’t dare crack his eye open to check.</p>
<p>He could hear Trucy still mock-crying, and Luke choking and snorting somewhere nearby, but even though his chest was on fire and his arm was screaming, he didn’t want to risk even the slightest tiny motion that could give him away.</p>
<p>“Luke,” Trucy sobbed, “are they gone?”</p>
<p>There was a strange gasping noise.</p>
<p>“Yes, looks that way,” said Luke.</p>
<p>Layton dropped his arm with the deepest sigh of relief he had ever managed in his life and clutched his chest with the hand that hadn’t been overwhelmed by pins and needles.</p>
<p>“Oh, thank goodness!” said Trucy as the Professor caught his breath.</p>
<p>“That was certainly… too close for comfort,” he panted.</p>
<p>He finally opened his eyes, forcing oxygen back into his lungs, just in time to see Luke watching him and failing to hide his lingering smile.</p>
<p>With Trucy smudging coal on his face, the things Mr and Mrs Teeve had said and Trucy’s performance, there was only one possible reason for Luke’s helplessness.</p>
<p>“Did you really use coal to draw a moustache on my face?” Layton asked his younger companion.</p>
<p>“Yes, she did,” said Luke as said companion giggled, “and Professor?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Luke?”</p>
<p>“It is <em>quite</em> the look.” He laughed again. “You did great, Trucy. The eyebrows are a great touch!”</p>
<p>“Eyebrows?” Layton could only blink in disbelief.</p>
<p>He dug into his pocket for a handkerchief as Luke and Trucy shared a proud high-five.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure if it’s better or worse that I’m nowhere near a mirror,” he thought aloud.</p>
<p>“Trust me, Professor,” said Luke as the Professor rubbed over his face. “It’s significantly worse.”</p>
<p>Layton tried to put his darling, loyal apprentice’s mockery out of his mind and rubbed away the coal that had been drawn across his cheek, hoping that he actually <em>was</em> rubbing it away and not just spreading it all over his face. The last thing he wanted was to spend the rest of the day covered in muck and grime.</p>
<p>A gentleman did <em>not</em> walk around in public with a dirty face.</p>
<p>One he was done, he took a look at his handkerchief, covered in dirty dark grey smudges, and cringed as he pressed it back into his pocket.</p>
<p>“Truth be told,” he said, “I’m more relieved that it worked than I am concerned about getting my face drawn on. You definitely are your father’s daughter, young Trucy.”</p>
<p>“Aw, stop!” Trucy said bashfully. “I’m a performer, so I have to know how to think on my feet! What if a show goes wrong? I have to improvise around it!”</p>
<p>“Well, for now,” said Luke, having finally straightened out his face, “do you think you could improvise us to the other side of that door? We don’t know if any other latecomers might pass by and I’m not sure if that trick will work twice!”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay, I’m on it!” Trucy responded.</p>
<p>She whipped back around to where the shim was still hanging out of the padlock, which she grabbed so that she could wiggle her tool around in that tiny rust-lined crack.</p>
<p>“I’m very glad those two didn’t notice I wasn’t made of wood,” Layton commented while she got busy. “Far more glad that Mr Teeve didn’t take the opportunity to test the hardness of my face or stomach.”</p>
<p>“You really think he might have attacked you?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“With how the people of this village have approached us before now,” said Layton, “I can’t say I would have been surprised.”</p>
<p>Luke stifled yet another snort of laughter.</p>
<p>“Trucy, are you completely sure you didn’t base Mr Hat’s design on the Professor?” he asked. “The resemblance is really incredible!”</p>
<p>“I based him on my dad, I promise!” Trucy replied.</p>
<p>
  <em>Clink</em>
</p>
<p>She tugged her shim out of the freshly opened padlock and twisted it off the thick chains that bound the barred door closed.</p>
<p>“Okay, we’re in!” she called over her shoulder.</p>
<p>Layton tugged the chains aside and rested them beside the door, trying to keep them as still and quiet as possible. He pushed the door open and held it for the kids to run through and, after one last glance around to make sure nobody was following them, he stepped in and closed the door.</p>
<p>Once the chains had been lifted back into place, he pulled out his lantern and flicked it on, eliciting a quiet little coo from Trucy as the stone walls and streaks of black came into light.</p>
<p>“I need both of you to stay close to me,” he told them. “I can’t be sure how deep these caves run or how many tangents they have. I’m sure neither of you want to get lost in here.”</p>
<p>He looked over at Luke to check that he was handling himself well enough.</p>
<p>“Is it possible we could get trapped?” Luke asked. “What if something happens and we can’t get out?”</p>
<p>“Not to worry, Luke,” Layton replied. “I’m sure we could find an alternative way out. We’ve done it before, haven’t we?”</p>
<p>To his relief, Luke managed a smile.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we have. I trust you, Professor. I know we’ll be okay!”</p>
<p>“Well, come on, let’s go!” Trucy ran ahead into the lantern’s beam. “The longer we hang around here, the more we risk getting caught again!”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” said Layton. “Come along then, kids.”</p>
<p>He stepped forward, motioning for Luke to follow him, and Trucy followed by his other side, hopping along happily with her little red cloak bouncing around her.</p>
<p>Already the mood was <em>significantly</em> less terrifying than it had been last night. Some cruel part of Layton’s mind whispered to him that he should have left Phoenix at home when he departed for his investigation last night, but it was buried by his self-reminder that not only did he now have <em>two</em> companions who were a lot peppier than Phoenix, but they were exploring in <em>daylight</em>.</p>
<p>If Luke’s research was anything to go by, the ghosts would be absent right now, wouldn’t they?</p>
<p>Interesting that they apparently only came out at night. What was it about darkness that made the supernatural so much more active?</p>
<p>Luke, for his part, was looking around at the cave in curiosity. His eyes wandered along the ceiling, tracing down the length of the stalactites and along the dark trails that the coal cut into the freezing granite.</p>
<p>“We’re going on a ghost hunt,” he said softly. “We’re going to catch a big one.”</p>
<p>“We’re not scared!” Layton finished the line with him.</p>
<p>His apprentice laughed for perhaps the fifteenth time that morning and this time, the Professor joined in.</p>
<p>“What are you guys talking about?” asked Trucy as they continued walking. “What’s so funny?”</p>
<p>“Um…” A faint pink glow crept onto Luke’s cheeks. “It would take a while to explain.”</p>
<p>“The most you need to know,” said the Professor, “is that a children’s picture book about a so-called bear hunt has been popular ever since I was a child, and it’s a book that I had passed along my copy of to Clark after he became a father.”</p>
<p>“Clark?” Trucy looked up in confusion. “Who’s Clark?”</p>
<p>“He’s my dad,” Luke explained happily.</p>
<p>“A long-time friend and colleague of mine,” Layton added. “Luke, have I told you what I witnessed when he met your mother?”</p>
<p>The pink in Luke’s cheeks intensified.</p>
<p>“Yes, you did.” His smile slipped away. “Please-”</p>
<p>“Well, we wouldn’t want to leave Trucy stewing in her curiosity, would we?” Layton asked, mischief creeping to the forefront of his mind.</p>
<p>“Please don’t,” Luke said weakly.</p>
<p>Layton took that lack of resistance as the cue to continue.</p>
<p>“You see, young Trucy,” he told his younger assistant, “Clark and I were flatmates during our time in university. That’s how we met, as a matter of fact, and he had a very troublesome cat he had named Beefeater.”</p>
<p>“Beefeater?!” Trucy laughed.</p>
<p>“We were allowed to keep cats and small dogs in our block of flats,” Layton continued, leaving aside any explanation of what a beefeater actually was, “so long as they remained within those flats and weren’t allowed to roam the corridors, but Beefeater was an adventurer who decided he wanted to pioneer in feline residential exploration.”</p>
<p>Trucy clapped a hand to her mouth and sniggered. Somehow the idea of a cat named Beefeater had her positively tickled pink.</p>
<p>“On one occasion,” Layton went on, ignoring Luke who was <em>actually </em>pink, “he managed to duck out through the front door and run as far down the corridor as he could, with Clark naturally hot on his heels. Not long after that, I heard a delighted young woman cooing over what was clearly a welcome and unexpected cat. Clark returned a quarter of an hour later with not only a disappointed Beefeater, but a date.”</p>
<p>While Trucy kept laughing, Luke’s face glowed almost as bright as the Professor’s lantern.</p>
<p>“Professor, do you have to?” he asked.</p>
<p>A glance down told Layton that they had reached the opened puzzle door.</p>
<p>“As your temporary guardian, my boy,” he said proudly, “I believe it is my sworn duty to embarrass you at every opportunity. Now do be careful down here, as this slope is rather steep.”</p>
<p>Luke turned sideways and started edging his way down the steep stone passage.</p>
<p>“It’s weird thinking about you and my parents that way!” he explained. “Especially since I’m going to be a university student too in only a few years!”</p>
<p>Layton froze, allowing Trucy to pass him and start her own way down the slope.</p>
<p>Luke Triton. A <em>university student</em>.</p>
<p>This sweet young boy was chasing down adulthood with the speed and determination of a marathon runner.</p>
<p>“…and to think you were once small enough for me to hold you in one arm,” Layton said wistfully.</p>
<p>“Aw, <em>stop</em>,” Luke replied.</p>
<p>“You’ve grown so much in the time I’ve known you, Luke,” said the Professor as he started down the slope, keeping his lantern angled down to light their way. “You’ve become a very remarkable young man. I couldn’t possibly be prouder of you.”</p>
<p>He watched in pride as Luke paused long enough to give him a bashful little smile.</p>
<p>He used to be so <em>small</em>.</p>
<p>“You guys are so lucky,” said Trucy. “I wish my dads could be as close as you and your friend, Uncle Hershel.”</p>
<p>“Dads?!” spluttered Luke. “The Professor isn’t my dad!”</p>
<p>The Professor couldn’t help but laugh again.</p>
<p>“I do like to think of myself as a paternal figure,” he told Trucy, “but Luke already has one father. I can’t say for certain that he needs another.”</p>
<p>Before the conversation could go any further, the floor evened out and Luke stumbled to keep himself from falling into the gaping hole spread out before them, the ladder poking up in its centre like a pimple.</p>
<p>“Alright,” said Layton, “you two need to be especially careful here. Luke, I think you should head down first.”</p>
<p>“Huh?!” cried Trucy. “Why Luke? I can go down first if you need it!”</p>
<p>“Trucy, do you see this stepladder?” asked Luke. “There’s no way it could stay stable on this ground! Whoever goes down first needs to hold it steady!”</p>
<p>“But then shouldn’t Uncle Hershel go first?” Trucy pointed out.</p>
<p>“I’m the Professor’s apprentice!” Luke proclaimed, pointing a thumb at his chest. “It’s my duty to clear the path ahead and make sure that it’s safe for all to proceed!”</p>
<p>“Truth be told, Luke,” Layton intervened before the argument could go too far, “I had hoped you would agree to go first so that you could hold not only the ladder, but the lantern for us. It would be best for our descent to be as well-illuminated as possible, after all.”</p>
<p>“Okay, um…” Luke looked down at the ladder. “Give me a moment.”</p>
<p>He squatted on the edge of the hole, leaning against the cave wall, and slowly, carefully extended his leg down onto the nearest rung. Once he was sure it would support his weight, he pressed himself away from the wall and Layton flushed with panic as the ladder rocked from side to side.</p>
<p>It was impossible to avoid the thought that a standard ladder, one propped against the rock, would have been stabler, safer and far more simple.</p>
<p>Luke stayed still, gripping the ladder for dear life, until the wooden structure steadied. He scrambled down at top speed and blew out a long breath the moment he hit the stone floor.</p>
<p>Once sure he was safe, Layton crouched down on the rock and passed down his lantern, with Luke muttering a quick thanks as he accepted it.</p>
<p>Layton offered his hand to Trucy and helped her down onto the ladder, just like a gentleman should, and kept his eye on her to make sure she was safe as she climbed down. Luke had to put the lantern in his teeth so that he could keep the ladder from wobbling.</p>
<p>Two down, one to go.</p>
<p>Layton sat on the edge of the hole, rested his foot on the ladder and pushed himself away from the stone.</p>
<p>
  <em>*crunch*</em>
</p>
<p>“AH!”</p>
<p>Falling. Snapping. Thumping. Cracking. Darkness. Cold. <em>Pain</em>.</p>
<p>Broken lumps of wood clattering to the floor and thumping him on the head, on his hands, on his back and legs and ears.</p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p>The Professor drew a deep breath, forcing air back into his lungs, and pressed his palms against the freezing, grainy stone.</p>
<p>“Agh!” His knees, chest and head were <em>screaming</em> at him. “Luke! Trucy! Are you alright?”</p>
<p>“I’m okay!” Luke replied from somewhere in the darkness. “I landed on my bum, I’m fine!”</p>
<p>“What happened to the light?!” cried Trucy.</p>
<p>“My poor lantern seems to have broken,” said Layton, and he pushed himself onto his knees with one hand digging into his exposed hair. “Not to worry. I’m sure my eyes will adjust to the darkness soon enough.”</p>
<p>He squinted into the suffocating blackness, but he couldn’t see a thing. Not even a glint of Trucy’s brooch or the vivid blue of Luke’s cap.</p>
<p>He ran his fingers through his hair. His scalp already felt quite cold.</p>
<p>“Can anyone feel my hat anywhere?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I think this is it,” he heard Luke say. “Here- wait, Professor, where are you?”</p>
<p>“Just follow the sound of my voice, Luke,” said Layton, “I’m not far away.”</p>
<p>“Oh, mine’s over here!” called Trucy. “Hang on a sec, I think I have something that’ll help!”</p>
<p>Something thin and solid pressed into Layton’s chest and he turned it over in his hands until he had it the right way up before positioning it back in place on his head.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Luke,” he said gratefully. “Are you sure you’re alright? Trucy, how about you?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, I promise!” Trucy’s reply was followed by the scuffing of shoes on stone. “Now witness the spellbinding magic of Troupe Gramarye!”</p>
<p>There was a quick whistle of wind as she whipped something through the air.</p>
<p>“Alaka-ZAM!”</p>
<p>There was a <em>click</em>.</p>
<p>And suddenly, the Professor could see perfectly. A beam of bright warm light poured from Trucy’s hand and the thick metal rod she triumphantly held aloft.</p>
<p>“A torch?” Luke, it turned out, was still lying on his stomach on the floor. “That’s perfect!”</p>
<p>Layton’s eyes tracked down Trucy’s arm to her grinning face, and from there, they wandered up.</p>
<p>“Ah, Trucy?” he said.</p>
<p>Trucy looked to him and gasped in shock and horror.</p>
<p>“That’s MY hat!” she shouted.</p>
<p>“I believe a trade may be in order,” Layton said as he took off the headpiece he had been wearing.</p>
<p>“Yeah, no kidding,” Trucy said bashfully.</p>
<p>She passed Layton his hat, and the Professor was more than relieved to have his own precious headwear back where it belonged.</p>
<p>“Well,” Luke sighed, pushing himself up onto his knees, “looks like we won’t be getting out <em>that</em> way.”</p>
<p>Trucy shined her torch up at the opening above them. It looked a lot higher when viewed from below. Ten feet, perhaps? Twelve?</p>
<p>“No need to be so down, Luke,” Layton said as he got to his feet. “I’m certain we can find a suitable order for climbing up that would allow us all to avoid being trapped.”</p>
<p>He dusted himself down and straightened his coat while Luke fought himself to stand up.</p>
<p>“Before then, however,” he paused to straighten Luke’s cap, “we have some exploring to do. Trucy, may I have the torch?”</p>
<p>“Take care of it, okay?” Trucy said as she pressed the torch into his hand. “Unless Luke’s got something hidden away in his great big coat, that’s the only light we’ve got left.”</p>
<p>She looked up at Luke, obviously waiting to know if he <em>did</em> have something hidden away in that great big coat of his. Luke, for his part, just looked confused.</p>
<p>“I don’t have anything,” he said, “so be careful, Professor.”</p>
<p>“I will,” Layton replied. “Please, both of you, stay close to me. You’re welcome to hold onto me if you want to.”</p>
<p>Trucy took that as an opportunity to jump forward and seize his sleeve, and once he was sure that she was holding tight and that Luke didn’t need any such comfort, Layton shined their new light down the passage he and Phoenix had been too frightened to enter.</p>
<p>There hadn’t been any voices in their ears so far.</p>
<p>He didn’t know whether that was a blessing or a curse.</p>
<p>Perhaps his eyes had been playing tricks on him last night. This new slope wasn’t quite as steep as he had anticipated. Not that it meant they could descend any more quickly, of course. One wrong step would lead to another painful tumble.</p>
<p>He pressed his free hand against the wall to support himself on the way down.</p>
<p>One foot in front of the other. Small steps. No sudden movements. Nothing reckless.</p>
<p>It only now occurred to him that he should have brought climbing boots, sporting shoes or <em>something</em> with studs that would help him avoid slipping.</p>
<p>He felt Trucy’s grip tighten on his arm.</p>
<p>“Hey, guys?” she said quietly. “I was being serious about Luke having two great dad guys. I really wish my dad could’ve stuck around too.”</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” said Luke. “From what we’ve seen, he’d never dream of abandoning you!”</p>
<p>Layton looked down to see the little girl frowning.</p>
<p>“Um…” she said nervously. “I don’t know if you guys remember, but Phoenix Wright isn’t my real dad.”</p>
<p>The temperature in the cave dropped even further.</p>
<p>The Professor swallowed.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” he said. “My apologies. I should have remembered.”</p>
<p>Trucy sniffed and rubbed her nose on her glove.</p>
<p>“I became Trucy Wright after my other dad left me behind,” she explained, “but…”</p>
<p>She turned her eyes down to the floor.</p>
<p>“…but my real dad is gone,” she said. “He’s not going to come back for me.”</p>
<p>“No, you don’t know that!” said Luke. “I’m sure he’s thinking about you every day! A sweet little kid like you? How could he not?”</p>
<p>“But it’s been two years since he left and he’s never even sent me a postcard!” cried Trucy. “Not even one with a fake name!”</p>
<p>Layton fixed his eyes on the passage ahead.</p>
<p>The last thing he needed to do right now was to tell this little girl all the ways he understood and empathised with her pain, and all the reasons he could perfectly relate to everything she was feeling about this man, this piece of utter human <em>scum</em> who had abandoned her without so much as making sure she had a future.</p>
<p>He hoped he would never find himself crossing paths with this Gramarye man. Something told him that no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much that man insisted he had been in the right, the Professor would end up doing something rather ungentlemanly.</p>
<p>As far as Professor Layton was concerned, there was a special circle in Hell for people who willingly abandoned their children, especially those who had no concern with ever returning to them.</p>
<p>“What about your mum?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>If her reaction when a stranger on the train had mentioned that word had been any indication, Layton decided he’d rather not know what Trucy’s face looked like right now.</p>
<p>“Mom died five years ago.”</p>
<p>The temperature lowered even more.</p>
<p>“Huh?” Luke gasped in shock. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“She went to practise a magic trick with guns,” Trucy explained, “but she never came back. My first Dad and Uncle Valant told me she was doing a vanishing trick and she forgot how to come back, but…”</p>
<p>She sniffed again, but Layton got the distinct feeling that she was wiping her eyes this time.</p>
<p>“Please don’t tell my Daddy,” she said. “He thinks I haven’t figured it out yet.”</p>
<p>Her words cut through Layton’s heart like a sabre.</p>
<p>This <em>poor child</em>.</p>
<p>He pulled his arm out of her grip and patted her on top of her hat, even though he had no idea what kind of comfort this might provide.</p>
<p>“I’m very sorry, Trucy,” he told her, and hoped that she understood he was speaking purely from the heart. “If it’s any consolation, the father you have now very clearly adores you to the ends of the earth. I have no doubt that from the moment the pair of you met, he’s only ever wanted the best for you.”</p>
<p>To his relief, Trucy managed a sweet little smile.</p>
<p>The slope evened out into another region of flatness.</p>
<p>“Right,” said the Professor. “Beyond this point is unexplored territory. This is as far as Phoenix and I got last night before we became too anxious to continue.”</p>
<p>He looked back up the way they had come, his breath billowing into mist in front of his face.</p>
<p>“I had hoped that a daylight setting would lessen the fear factor,” he commented, “but I must admit…”</p>
<p>He checked his companion’s faces, illuminated in the light reflected off the granite.</p>
<p>“I’m quite glad you both are here,” he told them. “Are you prepared to proceed?”</p>
<p>Luke hugged his arm.</p>
<p>His other hand was taken by Trucy.</p>
<p>Assured that they had no plans to leave him, Layton allowed himself a smile, and he stepped forward and raised his light to the walls ahead.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. The Paintings in the Cave part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In a matter of seconds, they were overwhelmed by a flood of brilliant, fiery colour.</p>
<p>“Wow…” Luke sighed.</p>
<p>“Whoa, that’s so cool!” cried Trucy.</p>
<p>The centre of the mural was an immense silhouette of a person, standing at least seven feet tall, their empty shape curving and bulging with muscle fuzzily outlined in sprayed reddish-brown pigment. Surrounding their silhouette on all sides was a blossom of outlined hands, the positive space ranging in colour from brilliant red to deep brown, every finger blooming like the petals of a gigantic flower.</p>
<p>They stood out stark against the dull grey rock, as pristine as if they had been painted mere moments ago, their colour almost comparable to that of dried blood.</p>
<p>Layton lifted the torch to his shoulder and cast the light over the vibrant shades of red, tracing up the height of the gigantic figure in the centre.</p>
<p>“Just as I had suspected,” he said to his companions. “I caught a glimpse of this when Phoenix and I were exploring last night, and it seems my hunch was correct.”</p>
<p>He reached out to the wall and held himself back from touching the paint, fearing the pigment would rub off on his fingers.</p>
<p>If he was to consider how deep they were in the caves, as well as the temperature and humidity, how difficult it would be to get in and out without a proper ladder, the rate of decay for paints in the era before modern pigments or varnishes, the stone surface and the rate of erosion for granite, whether or not other people had visited this place prior to their arrival…</p>
<p>“If I were to hazard a guess,” he said, mostly to himself, “I would say that this mural is perhaps around… five hundred? No, maybe six hundred years old. Six hundred and fifty, give or take a decade.”</p>
<p>“There are so many of them!” Trucy kept hold of his hand as she approached the painted wall. “Oh my gosh, look how small some of them are! This one’s the same size as mine!”</p>
<p>She held up her open hand over one of the silhouettes.</p>
<p>“Ah! Careful not to touch them!” Luke reached past the Professor to hold her back, and Trucy lowered her hand in disappointment.</p>
<p>“Yes, do be careful,” said Layton. “As a matter of fact, it would be best for us to keep moving. We have no way of telling what kind of effect our presence may have on the preservation of whatever we find down here.”</p>
<p>Rather than moving onward, however, Luke took a step closer to the mural, fingers on his chin as he processed the magnificent sight before him.</p>
<p>“It looks like they’re all right hands,” he pointed out, holding out his own hand at the wall to match it up with the silhouettes. “Professor, do you know why? Any ideas?”</p>
<p>Unable to contain his own curiosity, Layton raised his hand and compared the shape of his gloved fingers to those that had been spread out over the wall. One here, one up there, all those between and next to them… yes, Luke was right, they were all right hands!</p>
<p>He cast his mind back over everything he had learned regarding how dominant hands were treated in the past.</p>
<p>“Admittedly, it’s quite a backwards way of thinking,” he told Luke, “but people of the past believed that to be dominant in one’s left hand was, in some way, evil. Some would even say Satanic.”</p>
<p>He took a step back to get a better view of the mural in its entirety.</p>
<p>“However,” he said, “the lack of diversity does make it easier to estimate how many people left their mark on this wall…”</p>
<p>He counted how many silhouettes were lining the edge along the bottom, all those that were fanned out around the central figure, others that were above their head like an ochre-coloured halo and those that reached up into the corners.</p>
<p>“I’d say…” He tallied them all up in his mind. “…around two hundred. Maybe more, maybe less.”</p>
<p>“Whoa,” Trucy sighed. “I don’t think I can even picture that many people in one place!”</p>
<p>Luke, meanwhile, was still staring in absolute wonder at the spread of silhouettes sprayed all over the wall.</p>
<p>“And every single one of them had lives of their own,” he muttered, brushing his fingertips along the unpainted centre of a hand no larger than his. “These people had thoughts and feelings, people they loved and hated, friends and family and…”</p>
<p>He trailed off, looking up at the mural again, now breathless.</p>
<p>“Quite confronting, isn’t it?” asked Layton.</p>
<p>“…I feel so <em>small</em>,” Luke replied.</p>
<p>“You do?” the Professor chuckled. “I can’t help feeling some sense of pride.”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Trucy stared at him in bafflement. “What’re you proud of?”</p>
<p>“These people,” said Layton, smiling at the sprayed-on fresco. “Whoever they were, they wanted to leave behind some sign that they were here. Even back then, however many hundreds of years ago these men, women and children all lived, they knew to leave a message.”</p>
<p>He held his hand up again, lining up almost perfectly with one of the silhouettes.</p>
<p>“This is a greeting, you two,” he told his companions. “This is perhaps hundreds of people who lived centuries ago reaching forward to say ‘Hello. We existed.’ Aren’t you glad for that message to have been received?”</p>
<p>Luke’s gaze at the mural became even more wide-eyed and awestruck.</p>
<p>“…yes,” he said softly. “Yes, I am.”</p>
<p>He brushed his fingers down the centre of one of the hands again.</p>
<p>“Hello,” he muttered. “It’s nice to meet you.”</p>
<p>Layton couldn’t avoid a swell of pride at the sight of his empathetic apprentice.</p>
<p>“What about this guy?” asked Trucy, and she pointed at the full human shape.</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Layton ran through the possibilities in his mind and eliminated all those that seemed less probable. “I would assume that this was their leader. You would want the most important person in your group to receive the most attention, wouldn’t you?”</p>
<p>“In my mind,” Luke said, “the assistant to the leader deserves just as much appreciation!”</p>
<p>He crossed his arms indignantly and the Professor laughed at the sight.</p>
<p>“They certainly do,” he chuckled. “Quite a shame they don’t appear to have been given the appropriate recognition.”</p>
<p>“Hey, look!” Trucy pointed past her friends down the passage. “I think there’s more down here!”</p>
<p>She let go of the Professor’s hand and ran into the cave, her footsteps echoing around the stone, and Layton and Luke jogged after her to keep up.</p>
<p>The light flowed over the walls as they moved and the blooming flower of hands transitioned into small figures, picked out in black and dark brown, running and charging with long sticks clutched in their hands.</p>
<p>At least fifty of them, from what Layton could see from here, but the further they moved, the more came into view. The ground beneath them was a dark grey smudge that hardly any of their feet were touching.</p>
<p>“Wow, look at this!” Luke stared at the figures in yet more amazement. “It’s like something out of a history book!”</p>
<p>“If the three of us make it out alive,” said Layton, “it <em>will</em> be in a history book.”</p>
<p>“Look at all these guys with spears!” cried Trucy, bouncing on her feet. “I know you said they were only a few hundred years old, Uncle Hershel, but it’s like they were some primitive tribe of cavemen!”</p>
<p>A tribe… less than a thousand years old… dwelling in the mountains of Scotland…</p>
<p>“Of course,” the Professor said to himself. “Of course! A tribe!”</p>
<p>How had he never thought about this before? It made perfect sense!</p>
<p>“Professor?” Luke said curiously.</p>
<p>“Luke, Trucy,” Layton said, “I think I know the truth about the Painted King and his horde.”</p>
<p>“You do?!” Trucy cried out in shock.</p>
<p>“Well, don’t keep us waiting!” Luke demanded.</p>
<p>Layton chuckled quietly to himself as they continued walking.</p>
<p>“Think about everything we’ve learned about this village, Luke,” he said. “The tunnels carved into the mountain above the King’s Arms. The Pictish Shrine that stands at the top of that mountain. References to a king who rules this village…” He shined his light at the continuing flood of weapon-wielding figures. “…and a horde of followers who are happy to attack when provoked. Does none of that seem familiar?”</p>
<p>He watched with satisfaction as the realisation dawned on Luke’s features.</p>
<p>“They were Celts!” he all but shouted. “Of course!”</p>
<p>“Celts? What?” Trucy frowned in confusion. “Uncle Hershel, what are Celts?”</p>
<p>“Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they were Picts,” Layton considered, “but whatever the case, it’s very safe to say that these paintings were left here by ancient Britons who inhabited the Cairngorm mountains.”</p>
<p>“Ooh, I get it!” Trucy said happily. “I think I heard about those guys! They were the ones who lived in Britain before the Romans invaded, weren’t they? I remember, um…” She took a moment to tap on her chin. “Vercingetorix? Boadicea?”</p>
<p>“It was pronounced, ‘Boudicca’,” Layton corrected. “The soft C was a Roman invention and I don’t think Her Majesty would have appreciated people using it to say her name.”</p>
<p>“But those two were English Celts, weren’t they?” asked Luke. “We’re in Scotland, so that means this tribe really were Picts, doesn’t it? Or were they Scots? I’ve never been sure if there was any difference.”</p>
<p>“Given that the Minstrel plays from the <em>Pictish</em> Shrine,” Layton pointed out, “I think we can assume which of those were the inhabitants of this region.”</p>
<p>He looked up at the paintings again, now reassured by the growing sense of familiarity.</p>
<p>“Quite remarkable, isn’t it?” he commented. “I would never have suspected that a Pictish settlement once existed here, given how easy it would be for the Pictish Shrine to have been dubbed as such by our contemporaries. I think I should arrange an expedition for after the snow melts. That’ll make it far easier to find any evidence of buildings, stone circles, carvings-”</p>
<p>“Professor?” Luke cut in. “Do you think we should concentrate on getting out of these caves first?”</p>
<p>“I want to see if there are any more of these!” said Trucy. “It looks like they go on for ages!”</p>
<p>Layton laughed again. Her eagerness was infectious.</p>
<p>“It certainly does, doesn’t it?” he asked. “I understand your enthusiasm, Trucy. I must confess that I feel quite giddy myself.”</p>
<p>He looked up the height of the cave wall to the ceiling. The paintings stretched all the way up!</p>
<p>“We’ve stumbled upon something that, for all I know, I could end up teaching a class about back at Gressenheller!” he said happily.</p>
<p>Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke leaning down to Trucy.</p>
<p>“Trucy, you were right,” he whispered conspiratorially. “He <em>is</em> a nerd!”</p>
<p>“Your complaints come too late, Luke,” the Professor said smugly. “I’m already compiling the lecture inside my mind.”</p>
<p>He smiled as he heard Luke sniggering to himself.</p>
<p>“Whoa, what’s that?”</p>
<p>Before Layton had a chance to stop him, Luke took off running through the cave.</p>
<p>“Luke, be careful!” he shouted.</p>
<p>Almost the moment his voice’s echo faded out, Luke yelped in shock and vanished from sight.</p>
<p>The sound of thumps and gasps of shock filled Layton’s ears as he took Trucy’s hand and ran, torch light bouncing with the motion, to the point where his apprentice had vanished.</p>
<p>“Luke!” he shouted in alarm.</p>
<p>He cast the torchlight down the slope to where the teenager lay, groaning, clutching his elbow and rolling from side to side.</p>
<p>“Luke, are you alright?” he called.</p>
<p>Luke pushed himself into a sitting position.</p>
<p>“…I’m okay!” he replied. “At least, I… I don’t think anything’s broken.”</p>
<p>“Can’t say he didn’t warn you!” Trucy yelled back. “Ah!”</p>
<p>She cried out in alarm as Layton picked her up and held her to his chest with one hand, clutching the torch in the other. He turned himself sideways, feet on the floor, and slid down the stony slope, kicking up dust and grit all the way down. He didn’t stop himself until he reached the bottom.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked as he set Trucy on the ground.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Luke groaned, and he eased himself to his feet. “I just wanted to see…”</p>
<p>His eyes wandered up the slope the trio had just descended.</p>
<p>“Professor, look at that!” He pointed at the ceiling that stretched over their heads.</p>
<p>Layton angled the torch upwards.</p>
<p>“My word!” he gasped.</p>
<p>The entire cave ceiling was streaked with brilliant shades of green, blue, yellow and purple, flecked with dappled spots of a stark white. It reached up not only over their heads but partway down the walls, shining ribbons that glowed against the grey granite.</p>
<p>Even though he had only had one occasion to see it properly, Layton knew exactly what whoever had painted this was trying to depict.</p>
<p>“…wow,” Luke breathed beside him.</p>
<p>“This is so cool!” cried Trucy. “I feel like I’m walking through the inside of a giant painting!”</p>
<p>“I think you technically are,” said Luke.</p>
<p>The Professor turned the light down the length of the slope and along the level passage they now stood in. The painted aurora curved around the stalactites that intermittently studded the ceiling and flowed like rivers of colour without a delta in sight.</p>
<p>“It seems as though our forefathers were equally as enamoured with the skies as we find ourselves to be,” he said, mostly to himself.</p>
<p>He allowed the light to drift down the ceiling to the cave walls.</p>
<p>“…although it would appear that our interpretations are drastically different,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>“Take a look,” Layton told her. “What we see as a spectacular display of solar energy, the Painted King’s people saw as a call to action.”</p>
<p>When Trucy and Luke saw what he was talking about, they leapt back from the wall in shock.</p>
<p>The scene the torch light had fallen upon was a settlement in flames. Buildings marked out in black and dark brown being consumed by brilliant swirls of red, orange and yellow, and the same figures from up above surrounded the blaze with their weapons in their hands.</p>
<p>Other figures lay at their feet.</p>
<p>Layton fought back the urge to slap his hands over his young companions’ eyes.</p>
<p>Luke, having apparently recovered from his initial horror, moved in to take a closer look at the disquieting scene.</p>
<p>“Those are…” he said softly. “…spears?”</p>
<p>The Professor peered at the figures and the weapons they were holding. Quite long, it was true, but the positioning in their hands was wrong. Those <em>couldn’t</em> be spears.</p>
<p>“Not quite,” he told Luke, “although you’re thinking along the right lines.”</p>
<p>He turned his apprentice so that the three of them could – slowly, at least – keep moving through the tunnel.</p>
<p>“Tell me, Luke,” he said. “Disregarding that quite frankly <em>offensively</em> terrible film about him, how familiar are you with William Wallace?”</p>
<p>The kids took a moment to blink at him in bemusement.</p>
<p>“I know that…” Luke trailed off and cupped his chin in thought. “…hmm.”</p>
<p>“He was pretty much a Scottish rebel leader or something, right?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah!” said Luke. “The English king Edward… I forget which one he was, but they called him Edward Longshanks. He was trying to conquer some places and he wanted to give Scotland a shot, but William Wallace led an army of Scottish warriors to push him back.”</p>
<p>His enthusiasm suddenly faded out.</p>
<p>“I heard it didn’t end well for him,” he said sadly.</p>
<p>“Didn’t they execute him?” asked Trucy, of all people. “I read, like, three paragraphs in a history book Dad got me from the library to kill time before a show, but it said he was, um…” She tapped on her chin again. “Oh! Hung, drawn and quartered!”</p>
<p>Luke suddenly shuddered.</p>
<p>“The right term is ‘hanged’,” he stated, “but yes. It’s a pretty awful way to die.”</p>
<p>Layton decided to hold back in describing the details of the execution method. He didn’t want either of these kids to get sick down here.</p>
<p>“Not only an awful way to die,” he said, “but not exactly the element of his life that I had hoped you two would focus on. I’d like you to take another look at what these figures are holding.”</p>
<p>He pointed past Luke at the mural, doing his best to indicate the weapons in particular. Luke leaned in again for a look at one of the dark figures, its torso a perfect triangle and its arms and legs thick and solid.</p>
<p>“They’re holding the weapons a bit too far down to be spears,” he realised.</p>
<p>“One of the most famous and easily recognisable aspects of William Wallace’s legend is the size of his sword,” the Professor explained. “The weapon currently on display in the town of Stirling hasn’t been confirmed for authenticity, but if you were to include its handle in its overall length, the sword measures a full 5’4 from pommel to point.”</p>
<p>“What?!” Luke spluttered.</p>
<p>“Are you kidding?” Trucy squeaked. “That’s taller than <em>me!</em>”</p>
<p>“A weapon like that would require an absolute brute of a man to wield it effectively,” Layton pointed out, “and I don’t know about you, but even with how small they are in this rendering, these look like absolute brutes of men.”</p>
<p>“Whoa!” Trucy gasped again. “So those are <em>swords!</em>”</p>
<p>Luke looked down the wall at the fiery scene.</p>
<p>“There are so many of them!” he said, high-voiced in disbelief. “So this really is an army?”</p>
<p>“It would appear so,” Layton replied. “And leading this army into their battles…”</p>
<p>The figure that stood at the end of the mural was neither small nor undetailed. He loomed over the burning villages and the battling soldiers, arm raised in deliverance of a command, and while the shape of his body had only been roughly approximated, that shape was filled with curls and whorls of brilliant blue.</p>
<p>It seemed unnecessary to say aloud that this man was, very clearly, the leader of that army and the one to have ordered the depicted massacre.</p>
<p>“The Painted King,” said Luke. “Of <em>course!</em> Painted, Picts, fighting- it’s war paint!” He looked at the Professor with eyes wide in triumph. “He was covered in woad war paint!”</p>
<p>Layton responded with a nod, beaming with pride at his intelligent apprentice as they slowly kept making their way through the cave.</p>
<p>“Uh, Luke?” said Trucy. “This is going to make me look stupid, but what’s woad? Is it like a body paint or something?”</p>
<p>“Um…” Luke frowned, clearly struggling for words.</p>
<p>“Allow me, my boy,” said Layton. “Pictish and Celtic warriors of old wouldn’t dress themselves in the armour you may know as typical of the pre-Tudor era, and they would decorate their bare skin with patterns in a blue dye made using a plant called woad.”</p>
<p>He gently tugged Trucy aside so that she didn’t trip over a stalagmite.</p>
<p>“I can confirm from my research,” he went on, “that it produced a very pleasant shade of light blue in fabric, but that shade appeared deeper when painted on the skin. The warriors used patterns of coils and whorls to a fantastic, almost otherworldly effect.”</p>
<p>He glanced back over his shoulder at where the massive depiction of the painted man stood.</p>
<p>“It seems to me that this leader,” he said, “as the largest and strongest of these warriors, bore more of this body art than his comrades.”</p>
<p>Trucy gasped in amazement.</p>
<p>“So he was literally a painted king!” she cried.</p>
<p>“Precisely!” Layton said happily.</p>
<p>“Professor, look here!”</p>
<p>Luke jogged ahead again, but this time he stopped only a few feet ahead and pointed out another part of the mural. The sword-wielding figures stood arranged in the shape of a mountain, holding their weapons aloft over their heads, and from a distance it looked as though they were just standing on a black mass serving as the ground.</p>
<p>A closer look, however, showed that this black mass was composed entirely of more figures, lying flat on the floor, and said floor around them was painted deep red.</p>
<p>“You said these guys are warriors?” Luke recalled. “It looks like they were pretty successful.”</p>
<p>Layton nodded grimly at the sight.</p>
<p>“Indeed,” he said, and decided it might be best not to focus on the painting. “Of course, even before the people of these islands had even conceived of the Roman Empire, the Picts were known for their, shall we say, antisocial behaviour.”</p>
<p>He steered his companions away from the grisly scene.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you already know that when Emperor Hadrian <em>did</em> encounter them,” he continued, “he decided that the best thing to do was to build a wall to keep them out.”</p>
<p>“So <em>that’s</em> why it’s called Hadrian’s Wall!” Trucy realised.</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s right!” Layton replied. “You’re a very astute young lady, Trucy.”</p>
<p>Trucy gave him a massive, proud smile.</p>
<p>“But Professor, look at all of this.” Luke jogged ahead until he was just barely in the torch’s light and pointed at the wall beside him. “This mural, this painting of this tribe’s victories, look how far it goes! These people must have been conquerors!”</p>
<p>He dropped his arm and stared at the wall.</p>
<p>“Painted King?” he said. “Painted Warlord is more like it!”</p>
<p>As the Professor followed the wall, it became abundantly clear what Luke was talking about. Again and again, the scene of massacre, villages in flames and warriors slaughtering the citizens, then standing atop the remains of their victims with their swords held aloft.</p>
<p>“My goodness, you’re right,” he said, “but that raises a rather disquieting question, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>Luke swallowed, still looking at the painting with eyes full of dread.</p>
<p>“If these people were all so strong and so successful,” he said, “what happened that changed all their power from military to spiritual? How could… how did they die?”</p>
<p>Somehow the air in the cave grew even colder.</p>
<p>Layton felt Trucy hug his arm, so he patted her on top of her hat, hoping he could provide all the comfort she needed.</p>
<p>Even if he had the words to respond to Luke’s question, he didn’t know if he wanted to provide them. The situation they had found themselves in was already grim enough as it was.</p>
<p>He kept the torch steady on the wall as they continued walking through the tunnel, even though it seemed to be even more of the same. The Painted King leading his people into battle, those people happily obeying, torching towns and villages and cutting down the citizens with their immense swords before celebrating the devastating victory.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until the fourth in the sequence that the Professor noticed that army growing larger. Either the horde had grown its population the natural way for a civilisation or they had annexed other settlements into their numbers, and Layton couldn’t quite decide which of those was preferable.</p>
<p>Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he was being presumptuous. It was true that by modern standards, the actions he was seeing – marked out in what was most likely ochre, charcoal and woad paint – were nothing short of monstrous. The actions of a madman in charge of madmen, utter atrocities. With how little resistance he was seeing depicted in these paintings, he had no doubt that these were innocent people who had done nothing to incur such wrath except exist outside the rule of the Painted King.</p>
<p>But in the era these paintings had been created, these actions had been common practise. One might even call them normal. He was sure he didn’t need to tell his companions that the first half of the previous millennium had been a melting pot of war and conquest. Disease, race, religion, personal grudge, natural disaster, land expansion, trade routes, petty rivalries… the people of that era had leapt upon every possible excuse to lash out at each other with swords and shields in hand. It didn’t take very long for the word ‘Crusade’ to pop into his mind.</p>
<p>Thank goodness he hadn’t had the misfortune to live in that time period. He didn’t think he would be able to live in such a tumultuous time. The fear he’d feel at every second of the day would be overpowering to the point of crippling.</p>
<p>Not only that, but to be deprived of books and research? Not a puzzle in sight? The mere concept was utterly nightmarish! He’d go insane if he didn’t at <em>least</em> use a stick to draw up a magic square in the dirt around once per day, and even then, he’d probably get a splinter in his thumb that would eventually kill him due to that era’s lack of proper antibacterial soap.</p>
<p>His eye wandered back to the murals, fixing on the lifeless figures that lay at the army’s feet. People who said they wanted to live in that era - after seeing it on TV or in movies, of course - were no doubt expecting to have lived with the winning side, but statistically speaking, they were far more likely to have been among the populace who had been massacred.</p>
<p>All those reasons people would find to wage war against each other… Layton wondered what excuse the Painted King had come up with to rationalise the horrific crimes against humanity that these paintings made him seem happy to commit.</p>
<p>Much as he hated to admit it, maybe it was a good thing that some terrible occurrence had apparently wiped him out, along with his people.</p>
<p>But if Phoenix was right and if what he saw when he looked through certain stones was any indication, perhaps they weren’t as defeated as he would prefer them to be.</p>
<p>No matter. Once he had found out everything there was to find out about this so-called King and his long-dead army, it wasn’t likely he was going to stay frightened of them.</p>
<p>After all, he was a gentleman, and a gentleman was <em>rational</em>.</p>
<p>“Hey, Professor?”</p>
<p>It wasn’t until he heard Luke’s voice, echoed by the cave walls, that Layton was finally shaken out of the suffocating depths of his thoughts.</p>
<p>He looked up at his faithful apprentice to find him staring blankly ahead.</p>
<p>“What’s the problem, Luke?” Layton asked, wishing he had a hand free to comfort the boy.</p>
<p>Luke swallowed again, keeping his gaze away from the Professor.</p>
<p>“Do you remember when I first became your apprentice?” he said, his voice soft and frightened.</p>
<p>Layton felt taken aback. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had become lost in thought while walking through this cold passage.</p>
<p>“How could I forget?” he pointed out. “After how frightened you had been up until that point, it was quite a surprise to suddenly see you so determined.”</p>
<p>“And do you remember how ever since then,” Luke went on, “I’ve tried my hardest to emulate you? To be a perfect gentleman and master of puzzles and investigation?”</p>
<p>He dug his hands into his coat pockets and fell back, dropping his walking speed until he and the Professor were side by side.</p>
<p>Now that he could properly see his face, Layton’s heart dropped. His apprentice’s face was even more crestfallen than he had thought. The poor boy looked as though he could start crying at the drop of a hat.</p>
<p>“Luke, where are you going with this?” Layton asked, and he made sure to keep his tone as gentle as he possibly could.</p>
<p>Luke shot him a sideways glance.</p>
<p>“I…” he said hesitantly. “I’ve been thinking a lot ever since we got here.”</p>
<p>He looked up, suddenly panicked.</p>
<p>“Don’t get me wrong!” he spluttered. “I still love you, Professor! You’re one of the most incredible people I know and I wouldn’t trade our friendship for the world!”</p>
<p>He stopped himself and looked forward again as if he had just realised he had said something scandalous.</p>
<p>“But?” Layton said for him, hoping his friend would feel better if he could just get this out of his system.</p>
<p>Luke threw another glance in his direction.</p>
<p>“I, um…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve really enjoyed working with Mr Wright too. I feel lucky that I’ve already had experience investigating thanks to the adventures I’ve had with you and the mysteries we’ve solved, but somehow, what Mr Wright does, his methods…”</p>
<p>The way he trailed off suggested that he desperately didn’t want to keep speaking. From what he had said already, Layton couldn’t help but think that perhaps he worried what he said might upset his friend.</p>
<p>“How does it compare?” he prompted.</p>
<p>Luke shrank down into his shoulders, hands still thoroughly pocketed.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to say,” he said.</p>
<p>Yes, there it was.</p>
<p>“Whyever not?” asked the Professor.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to say because it’ll sound reductive!” Luke snapped. “It’ll feel like I’m downplaying how much I loved those times with you and how great it was to go on those adventures, solve those mysteries, help those people, find the solutions to all those puzzles…”</p>
<p>His heartbroken stare took on a note of terror.</p>
<p>“…<em>so many puzzles</em>…”</p>
<p>He sounded so exaggeratedly traumatised that Layton couldn’t avoid a quiet laugh at the sheer <em>drama</em> this teen was displaying.</p>
<p>To his relief, Luke managed a small smile as well.</p>
<p>“Anyway, I… I loved that,” he said, “I really did, but…”</p>
<p>He somehow shrank in on himself even more.</p>
<p>“Somehow what Mr Wright does…” he said nervously. “It just feels more satisfying. I don’t even know if I could explain it if you asked me to.”</p>
<p>Layton took a moment to think.</p>
<p>He put the Labyrinthia experience into consideration and thought about everything he had learned about Phoenix in the time they had shared, and thought about what he had seen the man doing every time they had been in the same courtroom together.</p>
<p>It wasn’t long before he had settled upon something satisfying.</p>
<p>“Not to worry, Luke,” he said to his apprentice. “I think I could give it a try.”</p>
<p>“You can?” Luke asked hopefully.</p>
<p>The Professor gave him his friendliest smile.</p>
<p>“Consider the differences between our methods, my boy,” he said. “More often than not, I will have no idea what I’ll end up getting myself into. When I boarded that train the other day, all I knew was that I had been enlisted to find a missing man. I could never have known that I would encounter Phoenix again, or that we would get caught up in each other’s business, and I certainly could never have predicted that I would end up framed for murder.”</p>
<p>He looked down at the little girl still hugging his arm.</p>
<p>“Or that a very sweet young lady would suddenly adopt me as her uncle.”</p>
<p>Trucy looked up at him with another proud grin.</p>
<p>“Phoenix’s method, on the other hand,” Layton continued before that grin could give him cavities, “is far more straightforward. You involve yourself with the persons central to the case as much as you possibly can and every single moment of your investigation revolves around them. As a defence attorney, Phoenix already knows his end goal right from the very beginning.”</p>
<p>He curled his index finger off the torch he held aloft in the most teacherly way he could.</p>
<p>“He already knows the truth,” he told Luke, “which is that his client is innocent. His investigations – and the subsequent trials – are all about proving that fact.”</p>
<p>As he had hoped, the light started returning to Luke’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Ooh, I get it!” Trucy piped up. “It’s like me with my magic tricks!”</p>
<p>Layton looked down at her, hoping that perhaps she could explain what on earth she was talking about.</p>
<p>“Is it now?” he said.</p>
<p>“Yeah!” Trucy replied. “I know I’m going to live up to the name of Troupe Gramarye sooner or later, but it’s probably going to take a while for me to master all the tricks and even then, I’m not totally sure how I’m going to get there!”</p>
<p>She paused just long enough to jump over a stalagmite.</p>
<p>“I mean,” she continued, “unless I want to do <em>everything</em> myself, I’ll need a manager, maybe an agent too, I'll need an assistant who can help me with the tricks and another assistant who’ll help me come up with new ones or tweak the old ones to keep them fresh, but learning the tricks themselves is easy-peasy! I already know what I want the trick to be, so I just have to figure out how to do it!”</p>
<p>Her words seemed to spark some kind of epiphany in Luke’s mind.</p>
<p>“Yeah…” he said softly. “Yeah, that’s it! That’s why…”</p>
<p>He suddenly slapped his hands over his face.</p>
<p>“No!” he cried. “No, I don’t want to say I prefer Mr Wright’s investigations to yours, Professor! That’s awful!”</p>
<p>Layton’s heart broke all over again.</p>
<p>“Luke, it’s nothing of the sort,” he said.</p>
<p>“How?” asked Luke. “Professor, I feel like I’m betraying you!”</p>
<p>The Professor gave him a moment to pull his scattered thoughts together. The moment they were out of these caves and back at their cottage, he was definitely making this boy a good hot cup of tea, complete with a side of Bourbon biscuits.</p>
<p>“How old are you now, Luke?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I’m fifteen,” Luke replied. “I thought you already knew that. Why does it matter?”</p>
<p>Layton almost felt astounded. He had been sure that even as he said that, Luke would realise what he would be getting at.</p>
<p>“I don’t know if you remember me telling you,” he told his apprentice, “but when I was your age, I had no interest in archaeology whatsoever.”</p>
<p>The way Luke whipped around and stared at him was almost cartoonish.</p>
<p>“If you want me to be honest,” Layton went on, “I didn’t have much of an idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Even as I was making my way to university, I never expected that I would eventually end up as a teacher.”</p>
<p>“What?” Luke continued staring at him in shock. “Really?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” said Layton.</p>
<p>Luke turned to face ahead again, absolutely floored by this incredible revelation.</p>
<p>“…wow,” he said numbly.</p>
<p>“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?” asked Layton. “There isn’t anything wrong with changing your mind about what you want to do with yourself, especially when you’re still so young. I certainly won’t complain if you continue to follow me and my teachings, but if you decide Phoenix’s methods are better suited to your mindset, I shall do everything I can to encourage you.”</p>
<p>Again, Luke looked like he was about to cry.</p>
<p>“I would even be happy to provide you with some referral,” Layton added, “if your parents don’t approve of that pursuit. Do you understand?”</p>
<p>Just as he had suspected was inevitable, Luke wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I do. Thank you, Professor.” He sniffed hard. “I was so worried that you’d be upset about me saying I didn’t want to base myself entirely on you anymore!”</p>
<p>Layton couldn’t hold back another chuckle.</p>
<p>“I would have been quite concerned if you considered me the only role model you ever needed,” he replied. “One should always fill their life with as many people they admire as possible, Luke. Even I, as a scientist, defer to the knowledge of those more experienced when it becomes necessary.”</p>
<p>“I see,” said Luke, and he managed a smile at last. “Thank you so much, Professor!”</p>
<p>The Professor smiled back at him in relief.</p>
<p>Crisis successfully averted.</p>
<p>“Hmph!”</p>
<p>Their third party member’s voice caught their attention again.</p>
<p>“At least the people around you guys actually trust you to know stuff,” Trucy said indignantly. “All the other magicians I know think I don’t know what I’m doing just because I’m a kid!”</p>
<p>Layton patted on her hat again.</p>
<p>“Well, so long as you understand how wrong they are,” he told her, “I’m sure that you’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>“Trust me, Uncle Hershel,” Trucy said. “I <em>do</em> know how wrong they are.”</p>
<p>She threw out her arm as dramatically as she could.</p>
<p>“I’m the heir to the Gramarye name, after all!” she proclaimed. “How could I be anything but spectacular?”</p>
<p>Luke and Layton couldn’t help but both laugh along with her at her drama.</p>
<p>As they continued walking, cave temperature now at least manageably chilly rather than utterly freezing, the Professor’s mind shifted focus back to the immediate situation.</p>
<p>What time was it now? How long had they been walking? Or at least, how long had it been since they entered this cave system? Thinking back to when Trucy had made him up as Mr Hat, it somehow seemed both an eternity ago and like it had only happened mere seconds ago. The fact that he had no idea how deep these caves ran, nor how far, certainly wasn’t helping, but if he considered how fast they had been walking…</p>
<p>…no, would that work? They had been changing speeds every now and again, after all. Pausing to examine the walls, jogging ahead every now and again when someone noticed something new, that moment when Luke had taken a tumble and when they had <em>all</em> fallen thanks to that broken ladder… how many variables had there been so far? And how many were still to come?!</p>
<p>Still, if he were to give a rough estimate, they had most likely been in here for an hour. It was impossible to tell when he didn’t have any frame of reference besides his own memory.</p>
<p>What was Phoenix doing right now?</p>
<p>How was he faring in the trial? Was Ms Skellig co-operating and trying to understand his position or was she single-mindedly locked into the idea that Miles Edgeworth was responsible for her mother’s death and absolutely had to be punished for it?</p>
<p>Layton hoped for the former, but the latter sadly seemed the far more likely of the two outcomes.</p>
<p>As he looked over the paintings again, he couldn’t help wondering whether or not she knew about them. The fact that the entry to this cave had been blocked by a barred door definitely suggested that <em>someone</em> knew about this place. And that puzzle door? Who in the world had conceived of that?</p>
<p>If he ever met them, he’d be sure to shake them by the hand, although not until he had given them a sizable piece of his mind for getting in the way of their investigation.</p>
<p>But before he had a chance to compile that rant in his mind, he noticed something rather odd happening in the murals they were still following along the wall.</p>
<p>Many of the figures – those of the same physique that had been brandishing their claymores not one mile prior – were now laid on the floor, with other smaller figures gathered around them, either kneeling beside them or standing with their arms outstretched to the sky.</p>
<p>“…hmm.” He leaned in a little closer, still walking, so that he could have a better look at the details.</p>
<p>“Professor?” he heard Luke say.</p>
<p>“Uncle Hershel?” said Trucy. “What is it?”</p>
<p>Layton tried not to lean in too close. He didn’t want to risk damaging this artwork by breathing on the pigment.</p>
<p>“These paintings…” he mumbled to himself. “Injuries?”</p>
<p>No; if they were injuries, this cave had already indicated deep red as a relevant colour. Not only that, but none of these figures were missing any of their limbs, which would certainly have been an indicator of any of them being wounded.</p>
<p>And then, as he kept moving, some of those laid down were clearly of the smaller or thinner varieties. Women and children as well, it appeared.</p>
<p>“No,” he said softly. “Sickness.”</p>
<p>From what he could tell without having a chance to cross-reference against his prior research, a sickness seemed like the most logical conclusion to draw.</p>
<p>“A sickness?” asked Luke. “What kind? Can you tell?”</p>
<p>The Professor’s mind kicked into high gear again. If these paintings were located here in Scotland and were six hundred and fifty years old at the youngest, what did he already know that could explain why these depictions of the people would transition from telling stories of conquest to stories of illness?</p>
<p>Six hundred and fifty years… that would place the date of creation roughly in the middle of the 1300s…</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>.</p>
<p>Layton drew back from the wall, taking the shallowest breaths he could manage.</p>
<p>“Considering the era,” he said to his companions, “and I had estimated these paintings to be around six hundred and fifty years old, hadn’t I?”</p>
<p>“Yes, you had,” said Luke. “Professor, what’s wrong?”</p>
<p>Layton didn’t panic. He <em>couldn’t</em> panic. There wasn’t any chance a pathogen like <em>that</em> could have survived for THAT long in such dank conditions.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid it’s quite difficult to tell,” he told Luke. “These are hardly the most detailed murals I’ve ever seen, even by cave painting standards, but taking the era into consideration, I have a rough idea of what that sickness could have been.”</p>
<p>After all, he thought to himself, there was only one major sickness he knew of that could have reached this far north in the mid-1300s.</p>
<p>“If this was way back in Roman times,” said Trucy, “they had loads of diseases back then, didn’t they?”</p>
<p>“No, this was long after the Roman era,” Layton replied. “I believe England may have become more civilised thanks to the Saxon and Norman intervention we were forced to endure at the start of the previous millennium, but even we Englishmen wouldn’t dare to set foot in the wild highlands of Scotland. Not only that, but I’ve already told you about how the Romans decided to avoid this region entirely, didn’t I?”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Trucy said softly. “Oh yeah.”</p>
<p>“Given how hardy even a visitor would need to be to survive in a place like this without modern clothing or heating,” said Layton, “how strong do you think the natives would have to become to call this place their home?”</p>
<p>He looked down at Trucy to see what her reaction would be and was not at all disappointed.</p>
<p>“Oh <em>man</em>,” she sighed, wide-eyed in amazement.</p>
<p>“I think I can imagine,” said the equally gobsmacked Luke. “No wonder the people in this village are so stubAH!”</p>
<p>His cry of shock was followed in short order by another loud thump as he tripped and toppled to the floor.</p>
<p>“Luke!” Layton gasped in shock.</p>
<p>“Luke, are you okay?” Trucy asked as they knelt down beside him.</p>
<p>Luke looked up with a grunt of pain and a graze on the tip of his nose.</p>
<p>“Agh…” He pressed his hand against his head. “I think I hit a bit harder than last time…”</p>
<p>“Are you hurt?” Layton asked, and he pulled his hapless apprentice to his feet.</p>
<p>“No, no,” said Luke, rubbing the end of his nose. “I think I’ll be…”</p>
<p>He trailed off.</p>
<p>His gaze wandered back down the route they had taken, into the cloying darkness they had left behind.</p>
<p>“Do you hear that?” he said.</p>
<p>“Hear what?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>But before Luke had a chance to explain, Layton’s ears were pricked by the soft sound of a deep, stomach-churning rumble.</p>
<p>“What is that?” Trucy asked.</p>
<p>The rumble grew louder, and somewhere inside it, Layton heard the sound of crashing, crumbling and rock grinding against rock.</p>
<p>“A cave-in,” he realised. “It’s a cave-in!”</p>
<p>“What?!” gasped Luke.</p>
<p>“RUN!” Layton ordered.</p>
<p>And he did, with his hat in one hand and Trucy’s wrist in the other, but as they ran, he heard her shouting and screaming in horror and the sound filled his heart with dread. He looked down as he sprinted and saw her desperately grasping at the quickly closing empty space behind them.</p>
<p>She had lost her hat.</p>
<p>But they didn’t have any choice. The cave was getting thick with dust. They had to keep moving. They had to keep running. They had to stay ahead of the rockfall or else they would be done for. After so long admiring these caves, they could <em>not</em> allow themselves to become a part of them, no matter how impressive those paintings had been, so they had to keep moving and stay ahead and <em>keep running</em>-</p>
<p>Layton lost his grip on Trucy. The thrill of panic prompted him forward and he glanced over his shoulder to see her safe in Luke’s arms, and he clutched her screaming form to his body as he ran, hugging her tight no matter how much she cried for her hat.</p>
<p>“Professor!” he shouted.</p>
<p>“Yes, Luke?!” Layton responded, struggling to make himself heard over the crashing of rock.</p>
<p>“I think I know why they stopped mining here!”</p>
<p>Layton didn’t respond. He kept his head down. Held onto his hat. Kept going. <em>Kept running</em>.</p>
<p>“<em>My hat!</em>” Trucy screamed.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Trucy!” Luke yelled to her. “We can’t! You’ll be crushed!”</p>
<p>It only barely registered in Layton’s mind that the passage had started sloping upwards. They were ascending. There was a way out. They were close. They were going to make it out of here. They <em>had</em> to make it out of here.</p>
<p>If Trucy was still crying, he couldn’t hear her. His lungs burned from the strain of so much cold air at once. His throat was clogged. He needed to cough <em>so badly</em> but to stop for that would mean death. His ears were filled with the rumbles of crashing, breaking, tumbling rock, but in the midst of the dust that clouded the edges of his vision, he saw something up ahead.</p>
<p>Whiteness.</p>
<p>Sunlight.</p>
<p><em>A way out</em>.</p>
<p>“Keep going!” he shouted to his companions. “I see a light up ahead!”</p>
<p>He glanced back again and saw that Luke had set Trucy back on the ground. He was starting to stumble. He couldn’t take much more of this. None of them could take much more of this, let alone poor Trucy, whose short stature left her being dragged behind and staggering even more in her struggle to keep up with Luke and the Professor.</p>
<p>The tear stains on her cheeks were thick with stone dust.</p>
<p>But they did <em>not</em> have time right now! They had to get out! They had to <em>run!</em></p>
<p>Almost there, he told himself. They were almost out. They were so close. They were <em>almost there</em>.</p>
<p>The upward slope was getting steeper. Even if he wasn’t already exhausted, scaling the cave was getting more and more difficult. His feet were fumbling and slipping and his heart was pounding in his ears but the crashing of granite against granite was still getting louder and louder and LOUDER-</p>
<p>He was out.</p>
<p>He grabbed Luke’s wrist and dragged him out of the mouth into the snow, Trucy trailing close behind.</p>
<p>The rumble of falling rock finally crashed to a climax with a hiss of ejected dust.</p>
<p>And finally, <em>finally</em>, Layton lay flat in the snow and stared up at the clear blue sky, panting and heaving and gasping for breath that blew out of his mouth like smoke from a chimney.</p>
<p>His throat was burning. His heart hammered so hard that he worried it might stop. His lungs, with no choice but to suffer in the cold, were <em>freezing</em>.</p>
<p>But at least he was out. He was breathing.</p>
<p>He was <em>alive</em>.</p>
<p>And nearby, somewhere under the sound of his own breathing and racing pulse, he could hear Luke in much the same state.</p>
<p>“That was…” the poor boy panted. “…that was <em>ridiculous</em>…”</p>
<p>Layton didn’t have the energy to state his agreement. He settled for nodding instead, even though Luke probably couldn’t see that.</p>
<p>He wiped away the sweat on his brow before it had a chance to freeze to his skin.</p>
<p>“I can’t say I’m a staunch believer in the supernatural yet…” he managed to sigh, “but I can’t help fearing that perhaps… we may have brought a curse upon ourselves… by entering those tunnels uninvited.”</p>
<p>He heard Luke manage a breathless laugh, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself right back.</p>
<p>“Are you alright, Professor?” Luke asked.</p>
<p>The Professor took the deepest breath he could, trying to force his lungs to return to stable function. They were okay, he reminded himself. They had survived. He was right here and he was fine and he was <em>breathing</em>.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” he replied, still looking up at the sky. “Mustn’t grumble. You?”</p>
<p>He gathered all his strength and forced himself to sit up and stare at his feet, which he had just realised were <em>very</em> sore.</p>
<p>“Give me a moment to catch my breath and I’ll be okay,” replied Luke, who rolled onto his side with much the same amount of struggle. “Trucy, how about-”</p>
<p>“AH!”</p>
<p>The yelp was paired with the sound of tearing fabric and followed by the crunch of snow being crushed.</p>
<p>When Layton and Luke looked back to the cave entrance, now entirely blocked by massive chunks of rock, they saw a scrap of red fabric poking from a crack and a little girl sitting beside it, staring at the blockage.</p>
<p>“Trucy!” Luke shouted in shock, and Layton followed him as he thrust himself to his feet and ran to where the little girl lay.</p>
<p>“Trucy, are you alright?” asked Layton.</p>
<p>When they caught up to her, the first thing he saw was that Trucy seemed fine. Dirty and out of breath, but otherwise unharmed. But her eyes were wide in horror and fixed on that fluttering torn off scrap of bright red.</p>
<p>It didn’t take long for Layton to put together why it had her so upset.</p>
<p>Her hand was slow and trembled as she reached for her brooch, and in spite of her fingers fumbling and slipping, she unfastened it and pulled the remaining tiny shredded scrap of her beloved cloak away from her neck.</p>
<p>Seconds ticked past as she knelt there in the snow, cradling the thin scrap of red cloth in her hands.</p>
<p>She clutched it to her chest, squeezing it tight in her hands, and fresh tears gushed down her cheeks.</p>
<p>“Oh, Trucy,” the Professor muttered, and he kneeled down and rested his arm around her shoulders.</p>
<p>Trucy looked up at the still-trapped fabric hanging out of the fallen rock.</p>
<p>“…my daddy…” she sobbed. “…my <em>first</em> daddy…”</p>
<p>She struggled to talk. Her breath kept hitching in her throat.</p>
<p>“…he gave me my cloak,” she managed to say. “…he gave me my hat… my magician’s attire was all I had left of him and now… now I…”</p>
<p>She clutched the ripped collar even tighter to her chest.</p>
<p>“Daddy, I’m so sorry!” she cried.</p>
<p>She put up no resistance as Luke pulled her into his chest and held her close. She nestled into his coat and clutched his toggles for support as her entire body shuddered with sob after agonising sob.</p>
<p>Not wanting to crowd her too much, Layton patted her on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“I’m truly sorry, Trucy,” he told her. “If anybody is to blame, it’s me. I should have made sure we all left anything precious back in the cottage.”</p>
<p>He knew it wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do as Trucy huddled into Luke’s body and cried. Luke, for his part, simply cradled her and rubbed her back, letting her cry as much as she needed to.</p>
<p>If only Phoenix could have been here too.</p>
<p>Still holding the crying girl, Luke looked around at where they had emerged.</p>
<p>“Professor,” he said, “do you know where we are?”</p>
<p>Layton straightened up and looked around.</p>
<p>The cave mouth they had emerged from was set into a mountain so steeply sloped it could almost be mistaken for a cliff, its foothills trailing around them and enclosing the region in a cosy little grove. Trees grew around the edges, clinging to life on those low-lying rocky ridges, and parallel to the cave mouth sat a bank that was probably grassy and green in the summer, but for now, it was blanketed in pristine snow.</p>
<p>The Professor took all of this in before looking up at the sky, at the pale sun that hung overhead trying its hardest to warm the frozen ground.</p>
<p>Not <em>directly</em> overhead. It seemed like they hadn’t quite reached the afternoon yet. Either that or it was shortly after noon. It was rather difficult to tell.</p>
<p>“…the time…” he muttered to himself. “…position of the sun… depth of those caves combined with the distance…”</p>
<p>The tunnel they had walked through had followed a gentle curve shape, sloping down from the entry near the police station and going back up on this side, and it certainly seemed to have sloped that way for quite a while, given how difficult it had been to traverse.</p>
<p>With how slowly they had been moving as they admired the paintings and tried to avoid tripping and falling…</p>
<p>“…ah, yes,” said Layton. “You remember how our cottage is nestled against a cliff face, don’t you, Luke? We’re currently on the other side of those cliffs.”</p>
<p>Luke looked up at the mountain, unsurprisingly confused.</p>
<p>“Wow,” he said. “So those caves went right under that gorge?”</p>
<p>“It certainly seems that way,” said Layton. “Not to worry, my boy. I’m sure we can find an alternative way back.”</p>
<p>Before Luke had any chance to respond, Trucy let out a gut-wrenching wail of grief, and her sobbing became more painful than ever.</p>
<p>Layton kneeled down beside them and rested his hand on her shoulder again.</p>
<p>“Trucy,” he said as gently as he could, “could you look at me for a moment?”</p>
<p>Trucy snivelled and turned her soaking wet face to peer at him from behind Luke’s arms.</p>
<p>“Mm-hm?” she said weakly.</p>
<p>The Professor thanked his lucky stars that Phoenix wasn’t here. He hadn’t known the man to be outwardly violent, but he had no doubt that making his daughter cry like this would result in a solid left hook to the jaw.</p>
<p>“How old were you when your father gave you that cloak and hat?” he asked her.</p>
<p>She sniffed again and wiped her dirty face on the back of her sleeve.</p>
<p>“I was…” she managed to say. “…I was five.”</p>
<p>“So you held onto them both for five years?” said Layton. “And you kept them in top condition for the entire time? That’s very impressive.”</p>
<p>Trucy blinked more tears out of her eyes.</p>
<p>“Mm-hm,” she said again.</p>
<p>“I’m sure he would be very proud of you for taking care of them as long as you did,” Layton told her, “and that he would be much more concerned for <em>your</em> safety than he would be for that of your clothes. Do you understand?”</p>
<p>With another deep sniff, Trucy nodded.</p>
<p>“Would you like to borrow my handkerchief?” Layton offered.</p>
<p>She nodded again.</p>
<p>“Do be careful,” Layton warned as he pulled it from his pocket. “I’m afraid it’s still covered in coal dust.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, be careful,” Luke added as Trucy wiped over her face. “You don’t want to look like you need to shave, do you? I mean, if you wanted to match Mr Wright…”</p>
<p>He trailed off as Trucy managed a soft, weak little giggle.</p>
<p>“That’s better,” said Layton. “Will you be alright?”</p>
<p>Trucy blew her nose into the handkerchief.</p>
<p>“I think so,” she replied.</p>
<p>She offered the handkerchief back, but Layton held up his hand to stop her. She needed it far more than he did right now.</p>
<p>“Are you going to be warm enough?” asked Luke. “I can lend you my coat if you need it.”</p>
<p>“No, I’m…” Trucy eased herself out of his arms and wavered on her feet. “I’ll be okay. If I get cold, I can borrow Mr Hat’s cape.”</p>
<p>Luke smiled at the sight of her grit.</p>
<p>“You’re a very inventive young lady,” Layton told her, “aren’t you?”</p>
<p>“I have to be,” Trucy replied, and without a hat to tip, she flashed the Professor a peace sign. “I’m a Gramarye <em>and</em> a Wright, after all!”</p>
<p>She snivelled again through her smile.</p>
<p>While Luke moved in, still on his knees, to check for sure that she was okay, Layton looked back at the blocked-up cave.</p>
<p>It was alright, he had to remind himself. He was a renowned archaeologist with more than enough clout in the world of exploration and investigation in ancient civilisations. All he’d have to do was ask kindly and surely Dean Delmona would arrange for the caves to be excavated, and he would be able to explore and examine these murals at his leisure.</p>
<p>Such a pity that the ceiling paintings had likely been destroyed by now.</p>
<p>No, they could be pieced back together, couldn’t they? If all the pieces could be recovered, it would be like a gigantic jigsaw puzzle.</p>
<p>Hopefully the art on the walls hadn’t been scratched up too badly.</p>
<p>Layton cast his eyes around the enclosed little area they had emerged into.</p>
<p>“Hmm…” The gears in his mind began turning again.</p>
<p>“What are you thinking, Professor?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>The Professor tried to envision what the civilisation prior to their arrival could have been. There were likely houses around here, maybe businesses or services like a smith or a tanner, and the Pictish Shrine he’d heard so much about was an indicator of some form of religion, or at the very least, pagan worship.</p>
<p>Not only that, but these caves and their murals, puzzle door notwithstanding, had been relatively easy to access.</p>
<p>“Those paintings down there…” he thought aloud, and he checked that his companions were listening. “Tell me something, Luke. If you were to keep a record of history that any person could add to at their leisure, where in your settlement, be it village, tribe or whichever is your preference, would you have it positioned?”</p>
<p>“What?” asked Luke. “What does…”</p>
<p>He noticed Layton facing the cave entrance and quickly hit upon what he was hinting at.</p>
<p>“Um…” He took another moment to think. “I suppose I would put it somewhere rather central to wherever that was. Someplace that anybody could access if they wanted to add something to it or go and take a look. It would basically be a free-range library or a museum, wouldn’t it?”</p>
<p>He pressed himself up to his feet.</p>
<p>“Do you think that’s what that cave was?” he asked. “A record the Painted King’s tribe were keeping?”</p>
<p>“It certainly did seem like a hotbed of history, didn’t it?” said Layton, cradling his chin as he started pacing in front of the cave entrance. “It's only a hunch thus far, but I would say that whoever the Painted King and his people were, they certainly were sizable in their numbers. They would have needed a good deal of space for all of them to be comfortable, so does it not make sense that they may have spread out all through this region?”</p>
<p>He noticed Luke echoing his chin-stroking.</p>
<p>“Isn’t there a stone circle thing not far from Ms Skellig’s house?” Trucy pointed out. “They, uh, they call them henges here in Britain, don’t they? Like Stonehenge?”</p>
<p>“And the Pictish Shrine too,” said Luke.</p>
<p>Layton nodded in confirmation. He didn’t know if he’d ever know the limits of Luke’s astuteness.</p>
<p>“If we look around here,” he said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we were to stumble upon some sign of the Painted King’s people. I think, perhaps…”</p>
<p>His eyes fell upon the bank that formed one of the sides of this cosy little area.</p>
<p>It was only a few metres tall, not very steep, practically tailor-made for riding down on a toboggan. Even just looking at it with its pristine snow blanket was tempting him to climb to the top and see how much he could see from up there.</p>
<p>“…do bear with me,” he told his companions, “I have a feeling…”</p>
<p>His aching feet and strained legs screamed at him to stop and keep resting, but he didn’t listen. He ran past Luke and Trucy and up the slope, digging into the ice-crusted snow for footholds, until he finally reached the top of the bank.</p>
<p>And once he was there, he froze.</p>
<p>Spread before him was another small plateau, sheltered on all sides by jagged, rocky slopes and towering evergreens.</p>
<p>And in the centre of that plateau, a large hill. Covered in untouched snow.</p>
<p>A sealed stone doorway was set into its side.</p>
<p>The crunching of snow underfoot nearby was like a distant memory to Layton as he stood, unmoving, with his eyes firmly fixed on the hill.</p>
<p>“Not to sound like a broken record, Professor,” said Luke, “but what’s that?”</p>
<p>“Is that a door?” asked Trucy. “Why does a hill have a door? Uncle Hershel?”</p>
<p>Layton gently and wordlessly passed her torch back to her.</p>
<p>“…my word…” he muttered, although it felt like a sin to be speaking at all.</p>
<p>He ran down the other side of the bank, stumbling in the snow, struggling not to fall as the powder shifted under his weight.</p>
<p>“Professor!” he heard Luke shout behind him.</p>
<p>“Uncle Hershel, wait!” Trucy called as he ran. “We can’t keep up!”</p>
<p>But the Professor didn’t stop until he had reached the stone slab that covered the hill’s doorway.</p>
<p>“…this is it,” he whispered to himself.</p>
<p>He ran his fingers over the stone. Even through his gloves, he could feel that it was unimaginably cold.</p>
<p>For all he knew, he was the first person to touch it in hundreds of years.</p>
<p>“Marvellous,” he muttered to himself. “This is marvellous! Luke, Trucy, do either of you have any idea what we’ve just discovered?”</p>
<p>He glanced back and saw the two of them staring at the mound with only half as much amazement as he could feel pounding in his chest.</p>
<p>“It must be something important, right?” asked Luke. “You look like a kid seeing the sea for the first time!”</p>
<p>“If this hill has a door in it,” said Trucy, “does that mean it’s hollow?”</p>
<p>“It absolutely does, Trucy,” Layton replied. “How much do the two of you know about cemeteries?”</p>
<p>“Pardon?!” Luke shouted in alarm.</p>
<p>Layton traced his fingers over the stone again, satisfied that he had their attention.</p>
<p>“The methods by which we humans had laid each other to rest,” he explained, “have changed and evolved as much as we humans ourselves as the centuries go by, but one aspect of that reverence has stayed more or less the same. The more culturally significant a person was, the more extravagant the location of their burial will be. And now, both of you, please observe the size of this mound.”</p>
<p>He stepped back from the doorway so that they could both see it.</p>
<p>“Did I mention that burial mounds such as these were primarily used by citizens of the Celtic era?”</p>
<p>The understanding dawning on Luke’s face was truly a wonder to witness.</p>
<p>“…you mean…” he said softly.</p>
<p>“I do,” said Layton, and he slapped his hand against the sturdy rock. “Mark the date, both of you. We’ve found the tomb of the Painted King.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The Fall of the House of Skellig part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Phoenix paused halfway up the stairway, hopped from foot to foot to warm up his legs and keep his muscles from freezing up in the cold, before gritting his teeth and starting up the second set of well-worn stone steps.</p>
<p>His foot slipped out from underneath him and he crashed into the snow with a yelp of shock.</p>
<p>Immediately his knee shot bullets into his nerves.</p>
<p>“…ow…” he groaned.</p>
<p>He got back up, forced to plunge his hand into snow and shake the wetness away, and gritted his teeth again – this time against the dull ache in his leg – as he set off up the steps again.</p>
<p>Already this morning was off to an absolutely <em>fantastic</em> start.</p>
<p>He shoved his wet-gloved hand into his pocket to keep it from freezing and didn’t take it out until he had reached the very top, right outside the village hall, whereupon he tipped back his head to catch his breath. He had to close his eyes against the glaring sunlight, but he didn’t care. He’d made it.</p>
<p>“Ah, there he is,” he heard Edgeworth say. “Thank you for keeping me company, Officers, but it looks like your guard over me is no longer necessary.”</p>
<p>By the time he had finished catching his breath, Phoenix felt like his throat was frosted over. He hadn’t even run that far or for very long, but just breathing this cold air made his lungs feel like they were on fire. How was it that a cloudless sky made it so much colder out here than when it was snowing?!</p>
<p>He looked forward at the sound of the front doors clicking closed, but the first thing he saw was Edgeworth standing beside it, arms crossed, impatiently tapping his finger and huffing at Phoenix through his nose.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Edgeworth,” Phoenix sighed. “I lost track of time over breakfast. You doing alright?”</p>
<p>Had he not already built up such a powerful resistance to it, he might have flinched under Edgeworth’s harsh gaze.</p>
<p>“Have you ever tried sleeping in a prison cell in the middle of winter, Wright?” he asked. “Particularly one in a barely-funded police station. I can’t say I recommend it, although it’s perfect if you wish to relegate your sleep to half-hour bursts every two hours or so.”</p>
<p>“Yikes,” Phoenix winced. “Are you going to be okay?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth unfolded his arms and stretched them <em>hard</em> behind his head, grunting with the effort.</p>
<p>“Believe it or not,” he said, “it wasn’t the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had.”</p>
<p>He collapsed his arms and blew out a gust of steam.</p>
<p>“How about you?” he asked. “How went your preparations yesterday?”</p>
<p>Phoenix pulled his journal out of his jacket and slapped it between his hands.</p>
<p>“I’ll admit I still have my doubts,” he admitted, “but I’ve worked miracles before.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” said Edgeworth. “It’s nice to know how incredibly confident my lawyer is in the case he intends to use to save me from prison.”</p>
<p>“Don’t give me that!” Phoenix snapped. “I’d like to know how <em>you </em>would handle a case like this!”</p>
<p>“I have before and you know it!” Edgeworth spat back.</p>
<p>He leaned to one side, peering past Phoenix down the hill and its icy steps, and glanced over his shoulder at the shadowy hall interior before leaning in conspiratorially.</p>
<p>“What about the Professor and Trucy?” he asked quietly. “I notice you’re here all by yourself this morning.”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s mind wandered back to the cottage. The trio had probably departed for the cave by now. For all he knew, they were already inside, getting their butts scared off by whichever ghosts and ghouls and long-legged beasts were calling that place home.</p>
<p>He glanced to his side in the bell tower’s direction, but the only people he could see were a couple – either middle-aged or elderly, it was hard to tell at this distance – talking and leisurely approaching the Sacred Well.</p>
<p>He swallowed. No need to worry. They would be fine. His daughter would be fine. Layton and Luke would be fine. He didn’t have anything to be afraid of. They were going to be completely <em>fine</em>.</p>
<p>“Obviously,” he said to Edgeworth, “Hershel and Trucy-”</p>
<p>“A first name basis?” Edgeworth raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. “Would there happen to be something going on between you and that gentleman, Wright?”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t avoid a sigh. The only way this could have been more humiliating was if it had been Maya he was defending again (for the fourth time in as many years; good lord, did that girl need a hobby or what?).</p>
<p>“Hershel and Trucy can’t be here,” he carried on, “since they’re almost definitely still considered a murderer and murderer’s accomplice, so they’re exploring the caves that run all over these mountains. I went in there with Hershel to take a look last night, but…”</p>
<p>He swallowed again. Thinking back to it sent a shiver down the back of his neck. The gouged-out cuts in his side were stinging at the memory.</p>
<p>“Well,” he said, “I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a haunted cave in the middle of the night, but-”</p>
<p>“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Edgeworth tutted and leaned out of whispering distance.</p>
<p>“We both thought it was going to be the last chance we’d get!” Phoenix argued. “Anyway, that’s what <em>they’re</em> doing, and Luke’s gone with them because solving a mystery with Hershel is what he came here from America for in the first place.”</p>
<p>“So you’re going to be defending me all by yourself?” asked Edgeworth. “Oh <em>joy</em>.”</p>
<p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phoenix demanded.</p>
<p>Edgeworth shot him another piercing glare.</p>
<p>“It means I know what you’re like, Wright,” he replied. “Don’t blame me if you start floundering and run out of arguments to make. I can only think of one trial you participated in that you managed to win without the aid of an unqualified teenage girl who had never so much as set foot inside a law school, let alone achieved qualification.”</p>
<p>Phoenix had already opened his mouth to reply by the time he realised he didn’t have anything to reply with.</p>
<p>Edgeworth was right. He couldn’t think of <em>any </em>trials he hadn’t won with help either from Maya or Pearl (and sure, Pearl had been channelling Mia, but they even out to teens in terms of age so that counted when you thought about it). The only other trial that came to mind was that of Lana Skye, and even then, the defendant’s little sister had stepped in to help!</p>
<p>“…dammit…” he muttered in defeat.</p>
<p>“Not only that,” Edgeworth added, “but you do understand how much trouble you could get yourself into if my superiors back home find out what you’ve been doing, don’t you? With my current position, there are only so many strings I can pull to keep you out of trouble.”</p>
<p>Phoenix rubbed his wet glove. Perhaps some friction might warm it up a bit. </p>
<p>“So you’re going to tell everyone, huh?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I didn’t say that,” said Edgeworth. “I said I can’t guarantee that nobody will find out.”</p>
<p>To Phoenix’s surprise, his friend patted him on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“Not to worry, Wright,” he said with a smile. “When I become the district chief prosecutor, I’ll see to it that this legally never happened.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god, <em>thank you</em>,” Phoenix sighed. “You have no idea how big a relief that is.”</p>
<p>“Of course, that all depends on whether or not you manage to win today,” Edgeworth smugly pointed out. “I shan’t be able to do anything from HMP Brixton, shall I? Other than baking tarts, of course.”</p>
<p>He didn’t seem to notice Phoenix blinking at him in confusion.</p>
<p>“I’m guessing that’s a prison?” he asked. “No, no you wouldn’t.”</p>
<p>He looked through the glass doors into the hall again.</p>
<p>He couldn’t hear, but there didn’t appear to be as much pre-trial gossiping as there had been the two previous occasions he’d spent most of the day in there. All the villagers were sitting in their seats, staring dead ahead, silently waiting for the trial to start.</p>
<p>Phoenix had to turn away. It was just too creepy to look at.</p>
<p>He took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Okay, I can do this.”</p>
<p>“I certainly hope so!” Edgeworth snapped.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t talking to you!” Phoenix bit back.</p>
<p>He didn’t notice the door opening and the sound of knocking against the glass made him jump out of his skin.</p>
<p>“Ah, good, you’re here,” he heard Jack say. “We’re ready whenever you guys are.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, we’ll be right there,” Phoenix replied over his shoulder, and he looked back to Edgeworth. “Shall we?”</p>
<p>“You make it sound as though we have a choice,” Edgeworth said sarcastically.</p>
<p>As he’d said, with no other choices left, Phoenix held the door open for his friend and they stepped inside.</p>
<p>It was at least a little warmer in here now that they were out of the breeze, but Phoenix was still very glad that he was wearing all the wrapping he had. Maybe a comfy pair of sweatpants would have been preferable to the jeans he wore right now, but they were enough.</p>
<p>But as he moved from the foyer into the main hall, the hush slammed into him like a freight train. Every single person in the room was utterly, oppressively silent, and the entire village kept their eyes fixed on his every movement as he moved through the gallery to the defence’s bench. Perhaps the only person drawing more wordless ire from the crowd was Edgeworth, who branched off to take his place in the defendant’s seat under the infuriated gaze of every person within view.</p>
<p>Phoenix took another deep breath, relieved that he wasn’t freezing his lungs by doing so, as he took his place behind the bench.</p>
<p>Michaela was standing across the room from him, her back not only to him but to the rest of the courtroom.</p>
<p>Hardly the most encouraging sight in the world, Phoenix considered.</p>
<p>“…no pressure,” he muttered to himself.</p>
<p>He looked up at the judge and found himself met with about as much disdain as he’d been shown by the rest of the village so far. The bald man looked as though he wanted nothing more than to jam his so-called gavel down Phoenix’s throat and kick him between the legs as he choked to death.</p>
<p>For a moment, when he picked that little hammer up, Phoenix worried that he might actually try that.</p>
<p>His relief when the man just tapped on his lectern and looked up at the rest of the court instead was palpable.</p>
<p>“Court is now in session for the trial of Miles Edgeworth,” he declared, and more quietly he added, “Let’s just get this over with.”</p>
<p>Phoenix cleared his throat, forcing up some semblance of professionalism.</p>
<p>“The defence is ready, Your Honour,” he replied.</p>
<p>In the silent courtroom, Michaela turning to face him seemed to take an eternity. He watched her as she gently rested her hands on the table in front of her and took a deep breath, devoid of that smug smirk he had always seen her wear so well.</p>
<p>“…the prosecution…”</p>
<p>And when she looked up at Phoenix, her eyes snapped open, and she fixed him with the same frigid, steely grey gaze that her mother had tried to use on him so effortlessly.</p>
<p>“…is ready,” she finished.</p>
<p>The rage that radiated away from her body was so powerful that Phoenix could swear the courtroom got warmer.</p>
<p>“Dang, okay,” he mumbled to himself.</p>
<p>“As with our previous trial,” the judge spoke up, “I would ask that the gallery please refrain from any kind of interference with either the defence or the prosecution. Insolence shall not be tolerated under <em>any</em> circumstances, much as I would understand the reasoning behind it. Any persons who speak out of turn shall be immediately removed from the court and charged with contempt. I hope that’s understood.”</p>
<p>Phoenix glanced at the gallery to gauge their response. Quiet. Sour. Annoyed at the preventative measure.</p>
<p>Staring at him.</p>
<p>“…as if the atmosphere in here wasn’t oppressive enough already,” he commented to himself.</p>
<p>“Very well,” said the judge. “Ms Skellig, if you would be so kind as to provide the court with your opening statement?”</p>
<p>“Of course, Your Honour,” said Michaela, and she pressed her glasses back up her nose before turning to the gallery. “Ladies and gentlemen of Fatargan, two days ago, our village suffered a terrible loss. Our mayor, Angela Skellig...”</p>
<p>She paused and took another deep breath.</p>
<p>“…my mother...” she continued, “…was killed by the spirits that inhabit our mountains. It's the Minstrel's duty to play the Silver Violin and temper the Painted King's anger, but he failed to perform that duty and willingly caused our Mayor's death.”</p>
<p>She slammed her hands on her bench.</p>
<p>“My friends…” Another deep breath. “…my family…” She wiped a tear out of one eye. “Tell me. Shall we allow this murderer to walk free? Or shall we put him behind bars where he belongs?”</p>
<p>Her glasses did nothing to temper the fury her gaze pummelled Phoenix with.</p>
<p>“<em>Yikes</em>,” he hissed under his breath.</p>
<p>“A stirring display, Ms Skellig,” the judge said solemnly. “I think I speak for all the village when I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Does the defence have anything they would like to add?”</p>
<p>Another furious glare turned in Phoenix’s direction.</p>
<p>He swallowed, trying to steel himself.</p>
<p>“This entire thing is ridiculous,” he told the court, “and I’m going to prove it. No way a spirit could kill anyone without a body to possess.”</p>
<p>“And who are you?” asked Michaela. “Some authority on the dead?”</p>
<p>“Well-”</p>
<p>“Look at Yvette Fielding over here, everyone!” she shouted to the gallery. “He thinks he knows more about the Painted King and his horde than the people who’ve spent their entire lives surrounded by the dead!”</p>
<p>The courtroom stayed quiet, but a few of the audience members whispered and laughed softly amongst themselves.</p>
<p>Phoenix slammed on his bench to bring the attention back to him.</p>
<p>“I’m going by my personal experience!” he told Michaela. “My time in this village is <em>not</em> my first experience with spirits!”</p>
<p>He drew himself up to regain his composure.</p>
<p>“If you must know,” he said, “two of my best friends back home are both from a long line of spirit mediums and I've seen them channelling multiple times in the past. I've seen spirits both in and out of physical forms. I've even seen them being exorcised!”</p>
<p>He slammed on the bench again, but it did nothing to wipe away Michaela’s skeptical frown.</p>
<p>“I’m not claiming to be an expert!” he stated. “I just want to make it clear that I’m not an amateur either!”</p>
<p>“Perhaps not an amateur,” Michaela said without missing a beat, “but it’s hard to say you don’t come across as a greenhorn.”</p>
<p>It took all of Phoenix’s restraint not to wince.</p>
<p>Was this really what Michaela had become without her mother? Had her grief corrupted her mind to the point that she was willingly throwing out petty insults like some lost daughter of Von Karma?</p>
<p>Or had that kindness just been a façade that the mayor’s death had given her an excuse to shed?</p>
<p>It was impossible to tell.</p>
<p>Either way…</p>
<p>“…hard to say <em>this</em> doesn’t feel familiar,” Phoenix grumbled under his breath.</p>
<p>“Order!” The judge slammed his gavel on his lectern. “Order in the court! Mr Wright, if you can’t provide a rebuttal, please stop attacking the prosecution!”</p>
<p>Hardly an attack, Phoenix considered, but it wouldn’t be worth arguing against it.</p>
<p>“Of course, Your Honour,” he replied.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” the judge said once he was done shooting venom at Phoenix through his eyes, “if you could call your first witness to the stand.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Your Honour,” said Michaela. “I hereby call the innkeeper who oversaw the delivery of the victim’s evening meal to her home. Jacqueline Hill, if you could take the stand?”</p>
<p>Jacqueline Hill?</p>
<p><em>Jack</em> was the first witness?</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t bother trying to hide his frown from Michaela or the judge who was very clearly biased towards her. What the hell did they think they were playing at, calling Jack to the stand rather than the person who’d actually investigated the crime scene?</p>
<p>No matter. He was flexible. He knew how to adjust to something like this.</p>
<p>Jack stepped up to the stand and for the first time that morning, Phoenix was given a look of something other than outright vitriol. The poor woman was, rather understandably, nervous about testifying to the court.</p>
<p>Not that Michaela seemed to care.</p>
<p>“Please state your name and profession to the court,” the prosecutor requested, “or at least for the defence. Knowing him, he’s likely put you out of his mind by now, seeing as he’s so bloody special compared to us plebs.”</p>
<p>Jack curled her trembling hands into fists.</p>
<p>“My name is Jacqueline Hill,” she stated, “although most people in this village call me Jack for short. I run the King’s Arms just down the hill and-”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Michaela interrupted. “Can you please tell the court what you did on the night of the murder?”</p>
<p>Jack swallowed hard.</p>
<p>“…y-yes,” she said, uncharacteristically meek. “Yes, I’d be happy to, so long as you stop glaring at me like that.”</p>
<p>“It’s alright, Ms Hill,” Phoenix told her. “You’re among friends here.”</p>
<p>She managed a faint, terrified smile.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Mr Wright-”</p>
<p>“<em>OBJECTION!</em>”</p>
<p>“Jeez!” Phoenix almost fell back in shock. All this time speaking softly and melodically and Michaela’s voice was actually <em>that</em> loud?!</p>
<p>“The defence will refrain from emotionally manipulating the witness!” she demanded.</p>
<p>“Objection sustained,” said the judge. “Mr Wright, please consider this your first and last warning. Any other attempts to butter up a witness will result in you being held in contempt of court. Do you understand?”</p>
<p>Phoenix gritted his teeth.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he growled.</p>
<p>“Anyway, Ms Hill,” said Michaela, “if you would provide the court with your testimony.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, uh,” Jack said, “okay.”</p>
<p>She took a deep breath as Phoenix drew out his pencil and prepared his journal for note taking.</p>
<p>First testimony of the day.</p>
<p>
  <em>Here we go.</em>
</p>
<p>“Mayor Skellig had bought dinner from my inn,” Jack explained, “but she wanted to dine at home. With that in mind, I decided to deliver it to her in her house. I’m afraid I arrived pretty late; it was long after sunset when it was all ready and I got there around ten to ten in the evening.”</p>
<p>Another deep breath. This poor woman was <em>so</em> uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig asked me to reheat it for her in the kitchen,” she continued, “but when I did, she didn’t respond to me telling her. I left it in the kitchen. I didn’t know anything was wrong until the next morning.”</p>
<p>She closed her eyes and shrank into her shoulders, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but on this plane of existence. Phoenix blew out a breath of relief as he finished his frantic writing.</p>
<p>“I see,” said the judge. “Thank you, Ms Hill.”</p>
<p>“It was no trouble,” Jack replied. “I just can’t believe I never realised what had happened.”</p>
<p>“Please don’t blame yourself, Ms Hill,” said Michaela, and she looked up at Phoenix, adjusting her glasses again. “My mother’s death is not <em>your </em>responsibility.”</p>
<p>Phoenix avoided wincing again.</p>
<p>“Well, if <em>that</em> isn’t loaded…” he commented.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright,” said the judge, “whenever you’re ready, you may begin your cross-examination.”</p>
<p>The eyes of the village were on Phoenix again in a snap.</p>
<p>He pulled up his best poker face, ignoring the sheer unfiltered <em>poison</em> Michaela was glaring at him, and looked over the notes he’d made during the testimony.</p>
<p>“Can you please tell the court what Ms Skellig ordered for her dinner?” he asked.</p>
<p>“She asked for-”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Michaela screamed before Jack had a chance to get even four syllables out. “Mr Wright, I fail to see how this is relevant to the testimony!”</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” Phoenix said as calmly as he could, “it would be better if we-”</p>
<p>“Objection sustained,” the judge cut in. “Mr Wright, I would request that you keep your questions relevant to the trial.”</p>
<p>“But it was-”</p>
<p>“Order! Mr Wright, backtalk will not be tolerated!”</p>
<p>Phoenix decided to stop it there before there was any chance for the judge or Michaela to bite his head off.</p>
<p>“…okay…” he said under his breath.</p>
<p>Maybe it would be best to move on and try the next statement. If only he’d received enough information to take notes…</p>
<p>“How long did it take you to reach the victim’s residence, Ms Hill?” he asked.</p>
<p>Jack’s brow furrowed in thought.</p>
<p>“It took me about-”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Michaela yelled again. “Again, Mr Wright, please stay relevant to the trial!”</p>
<p>“But Ms Skellig,” said Phoenix, “this <em>is</em>-”</p>
<p>“Objection sustained,” the judge said again. “Mr Wright, does the duration of Ms Hill’s journey have any effect on her testimony?”</p>
<p>“We won’t know if-”</p>
<p>“Then please either find a more important query or I will have that question stricken from the record.”</p>
<p>Phoenix cringed at the reply.</p>
<p>“I think I can see how <em>this</em> trial is going to go,” he grumbled to himself, and once again had nothing to take notes about. “So you just walked into the Skellig residence uninvited?”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Michaela shouted before Jack could even take a breath to reply. “It’s been made clear that Ms Hill <em>was</em>, in fact, invited by the victim, and to suggest otherwise is leading the witness!”</p>
<p>“I agree,” said the judge. “Watch what you say, Mr Wright.”</p>
<p>The urge to punch something was growing stronger by the minute.</p>
<p>“I would if you guys would let me get a word in edgewise,” Phoenix said too quietly for anyone else to hear, as for the third time that day, he had nothing to take notes about. “So do you think she was already dead by the time you knocked on her door the second time?”</p>
<p>“Well-” Jack started.</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Michaela chimed in yet again. “We made it quite clear not one week ago, Mr Wright! The witness stand is not a place for speculation!”</p>
<p>“But I-” Phoenix tried.</p>
<p>“Objection sustained,” the judge spoke up before he had a chance. “Please keep to cold, hard facts, Mr Wright.”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding me?!” Phoenix spat.</p>
<p>He hissed through his teeth in exasperation. There was only one statement left to press, but it was probably the least relevant one to the trial, so surely he’d be allowed to get some information out of it, wouldn’t he?</p>
<p>“So you never entered Ms Skellig’s office or saw her body?” he asked, and then he just lowered his pencil and waited.</p>
<p>“I knocked before when I had first arrived,” Jack replied, “and-”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Michaela’s shout came later than he had expected, but it came nonetheless. “The statement pertaining to this question was in reference to the morning following the crime, so unless the defence has a question regarding <em>that</em>, I demand that his query be disregarded!”</p>
<p>“Oh, come on!” Phoenix slapped his journal down in frustration. “This is getting ridiculous! How am I supposed to cross-examine the witness if neither of you will let her answer any of my questions?!”</p>
<p>“Order, order!” The judge gavelled Phoenix into silence. “Objection sustained! I don’t care for your attitude, Mr Wright! One more outburst like that and I shall have to have you removed from this courtroom!”</p>
<p>“But- I don’t-” Phoenix stammered in disbelief. “You can’t be serious!”</p>
<p>“I think I’ve heard enough out of the defence,” said the judge. “The prosecution has presented a solid argument-”</p>
<p>“What?!” Phoenix spluttered.</p>
<p>“-and the witness has made the situation clear for all to see,” the judge went on. “No persons were in the room with the victim at the time of her death and thus the only ones responsible for that death could have been the Painted King’s horde. I don’t think I need to remind the court who is responsible for <em>preventing</em> the horde from attacking the people of Fatargan.”</p>
<p>“This is ridiculous!” Phoenix shouted even though he knew it was useless.</p>
<p>“I am now prepared to pass down my verdict,” said the judge, ignoring Phoenix’s horror and incredulity. “This court hereby finds the defendant-”</p>
<p>“HOLD IT.”</p>
<p>Phoenix froze in shock.</p>
<p>The shout hadn’t come from Michaela. Even if it had been feminine, which it wasn’t, it hadn’t come from her direction.</p>
<p>But it hadn’t come from the judge’s seat either.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until he looked to his side that Phoenix realised he wasn’t alone at the bench anymore.</p>
<p>The defendant, his client, was standing right beside him, frowning with arms crossed as he glared out at the court.</p>
<p>“Your Honour,” he said, “Ms Skellig, both of you are out. Of. <em>Line</em>.”</p>
<p>Michaela’s jaw dropped.</p>
<p>“I…” she choked. “I beg your pardon?!”</p>
<p>“Mr Edgeworth, what are you doing?” demanded the judge. “Please return to the defendant’s seat immediately!”</p>
<p>“Uh, yeah,” Phoenix said numbly. “What <em>are</em> you doing?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth just tutted and shook his head.</p>
<p>“Surely you’ve heard of the concept of a man standing in his own defence, haven’t you?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Oh…” the judge said softly. “…well, I…”</p>
<p>His lack of comeback left him trailing off as Edgeworth fixed his gaze on Michaela, steel against grey-eyed steel.</p>
<p>“Listen to me, Michaela,” he said sternly. “More than any other opponent you may have faced in however long you’ve been in operation, I empathise with your grief. Truly, I do. The agony you’re in right now is utterly unimaginable and I can perfectly understand your fury. However…”</p>
<p>He slammed his hand on the desk so hard that it shook under the force.</p>
<p>“A court of law is no place to lash out,” he stated firmly. “Your grief and desperation for justice has led you to behave like a petulant child.”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but be impressed. Only a few simple sentences and already, Edgeworth had left Michaela completely speechless.</p>
<p>“…but I…” she tried.</p>
<p>Edgeworth relaxed away from the table.</p>
<p>“Try to keep a clear head, Michaela,” he told her. “You’ll be a far more effective prosecutor if you retain a calm mind and prevent yourself from getting carried away. You’re more than entitled to your feelings, but you must <em>not</em> allow them to control everything you say and do, or else you’ll fall into recklessness and make decisions you’ll regret when you’ve calmed down.”</p>
<p>Michaela’s jaw stayed slack as she stared at Edgeworth in horror.</p>
<p>“What…” she gasped. “…but…”</p>
<p>Her eyes began to water.</p>
<p>“How <em>dare</em> you!” she shouted. “How dare you, of all people, tell me not to be upset with you about my mother’s death!”</p>
<p>“I thought I had made it clear that you have every right to be upset,” Edgeworth calmly replied. “You’re entitled to hate me as much as you like, but an accomplished prosecutor must not <em>ever</em> allow personal feelings towards those in the court to dictate their behaviour.”</p>
<p>He paused just long enough to glance in Phoenix’s direction, and Phoenix got the feeling he was being personally attacked.</p>
<p>“I say this as a man who has been in your line of work for a full eight years,” Edgeworth went on, “coupled with over a decade of study and training prior to that.”</p>
<p>A tear trickled down Michaela’s cheek, but she didn’t move other than that.</p>
<p>“…but…” she said weakly.</p>
<p>Not far away, Phoenix heard the judge sigh.</p>
<p>“Much as I hate to admit it,” he said, “the defendant has a point. A professional member of the court must do everything they can to avoid falling into personal bias.”</p>
<p>He shot a far gentler glance at Phoenix.</p>
<p>“My apologies,” he said. “I should have known better than to get carried away.”</p>
<p>On the other side of the courtroom, Michaela straightened up again, and she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.</p>
<p>“…fine,” she said.</p>
<p>Phoenix, meanwhile, looked to his side again.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth, I’d sure like to know what you think you’re doing,” he hissed.</p>
<p>“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Edgeworth. “I’m assisting you.”</p>
<p>“Do I really look like I need assistance?” Phoenix snapped.</p>
<p>This time it was him who was on the receiving end of that furious stare, and that was all Phoenix needed to understand the message.</p>
<p>“Fair point,” he concluded. “Just be careful not to push it, alright? We’re already the two most hated men in the Cairngorms. We don’t need to make it any worse for ourselves.”</p>
<p>Against all odds, Edgeworth smiled at him.</p>
<p>“Not to worry, Wright,” he said, clearly revealing that smile to be the product of smugness. “Look at them. Nobody was expecting me to side with you. My decision has thrown them to the point that they have no choice but to settle down and allow you to speak.”</p>
<p>Phoenix refrained. He’d already had a damn good look at those people for long enough to know Edgeworth was right.</p>
<p>“Don’t you <em>dare</em> let this opportunity go to waste,” Edgeworth added.</p>
<p>The silence suddenly didn’t feel as oppressive anymore, and Phoenix sighed in relief at the lack of Scottish people screaming and shouting him down.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he said. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth turned back to the rest of the court, prompting his impromptu attorney to follow suit.</p>
<p>“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Phoenix said. “Ms Hill?”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Jack suddenly remembered where she was and what was happening. “Oh, uh- yes, of course!”</p>
<p>As he opened his journal back up, Phoenix heard Edgeworth sniggering.</p>
<p>“Not only that,” the prosecutor said, “but you’re hopeless by yourself. Do you think I haven’t noticed that you function better with a person to bounce ideas off?”</p>
<p>Phoenix gave him a brief bitter scowl.</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to put it quite like that,” he said, “but you’re right. Maybe it’s cliché, but two heads <em>are</em> better than one.”</p>
<p>He raised his pencil for the second time.</p>
<p>“Now let’s see what Jack knows before they try to have us guillotined again,” he grumbled.</p>
<p>“Ssh!” Edgeworth hissed. “Don’t put any ideas in these people’s heads!”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t pay any attention to his indignance.</p>
<p>Okay then. Time for Jack Hill cross-examination 2.0.</p>
<p>“Can you please tell the court what Ms Skellig ordered?” he asked for the second time.</p>
<p>This time, Michaela stayed quiet.</p>
<p>“She had a serving of chicken and vegetable soup,” Jack replied, “with a few slices of freshly baked bread as a side.”</p>
<p>Phoenix prayed for his stomach not to grumble.</p>
<p>“That sounds nice,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“Did her daughter order anything?” asked Edgeworth. “Or was the delivery of a single serving only?”</p>
<p>“It was just Ms Skellig who had ordered the meal,” Jack explained. “She said that Ms Michaela had already turned in for the night.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth gave Phoenix an expectant look.</p>
<p>“Wright?” he prompted.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to question that,” Phoenix replied as he scribbled down the details. “I think you’ll agree, Edgeworth. That was a <em>long</em> day.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth responded with a sigh.</p>
<p>“Yes, I suppose it did feel extraordinarily drawn out,” he replied.</p>
<p>Phoenix was almost impressed. This man hadn’t even been there for the Professor’s trial! He’d probably have come out with a very different response if he’d known about his Very Professional Lawyer calling a goddamn owl to the witness stand.</p>
<p>Anyway, time to get back on topic.</p>
<p>“Was there any reason the mayor couldn’t have prepared her own evening meal besides just being tired?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Um…” Jack thumped her foot on the floor as she thought. “Not as far as I know, but you know how it goes, right? Sometimes you have food in the house, but you don’t know what you want, so you just order something!”</p>
<p>Phoenix snorted.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “Sometimes you just don’t have the energy.”</p>
<p>“Oh, come off it,” Edgeworth grumbled beside him. “Is it really that difficult to simply throw some pasta or rice into a pot with a few herbs? Or to boil or fry a couple of eggs?”</p>
<p>“Maybe not,” said Phoenix, “but can you honestly tell me you’ve never been tired and indecisive enough to just say ‘screw it’ and get MobDonalds instead?”</p>
<p>“Hey!” shouted Jack. “Don’t you <em>dare</em> compare my food to MobDonalds!”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t, I wasn’t!” Phoenix shouted defensively.</p>
<p>“No, Wright,” Edgeworth said flatly. “No, I haven’t.”</p>
<p>Phoenix sighed as he scribbled more shorthand into his journal.</p>
<p>“Well,” he said to Edgeworth, “maybe you’ve never had a young daughter who’s had a long, hard day at school and a disappointing showing at her performance leading to a desperate need for a pick-me-up.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth went quiet and shrank back, but Phoenix was hesitant to attribute that behaviour to shame.</p>
<p>“No,” he said softly, “I suppose that’s something else I’ve never experienced.”</p>
<p>“Objection!” Michaela shouted. “Can we please remain on topic?”</p>
<p>“Of course, sorry.” Phoenix returned his attention to the court. “So to clarify, Ms Hill, you only made one serve of soup with bread for the Mayor’s dinner?”</p>
<p>Jack apparently took a moment to remember where she was.</p>
<p>“Y-yes, I did,” she said once she’d come back. “She called me over the phone to place her order and I got to work on it. Nothing strange about that, is there?”</p>
<p>“No, there isn’t,” Phoenix replied, and he jotted down a note about the phone. “Thanks, my next question was going to be about whether she ordered in person or not.”</p>
<p>He scrawled a large “ONE” beside the first note about the order and connected it to that note via an arrow.</p>
<p>Right. One statement down and nary a shout from the judge or prosecution.</p>
<p>Moving on.</p>
<p>“How long did it take you to reach the victim’s residence?” he asked for the second time that morning.</p>
<p>Jack glanced over at Michaela, obviously worried she might get interrupted again, but Michaela didn’t make any moves to interject again.</p>
<p>“Normally it’s a walk that only takes about five minutes,” Jack explained, “but the steps up to the house get slippery when it snows, so I had to walk a lot slower than I usually do.”</p>
<p>Walking, huh? Unsurprising for a village this small.</p>
<p>“And are you typically a rather fast walker?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>“Definitely,” Jack replied. “I might even be one of the fastest in Fatargan, because there are no vehicles in this village, I can’t drive anyway and our only connection to the outside world is a bus that won’t come here again until tomorrow. And since the mountain terrain sucks for cycling, that means I have to walk <em>everywhere</em>.”</p>
<p>“I see,” said Phoenix, scrawling in his journal again. “Thanks for-”</p>
<p>“And it’s really annoying, you know?” Jack went on. “In the past year, I’ve gone through three pairs of trainers! THREE! They’re supposed to last at least five years and I wear them out in about four months! And I want to point out that I hang onto them as long as possible! I don’t throw them in the bin until the soles wear all the way through to my socks, alright?”</p>
<p>Had bringing this up been a mistake?</p>
<p>“Ms Hill,” Phoenix said, “please try to calm-”</p>
<p>“Yes, I know I’m overweight and I should watch myself,” Jack ranted, “but <em>you</em> try shifting the kilos in a place like this! Whenever my mum says I should lose weight, I just point out how I’m better protected against the cold than she is! And she has the gall to say I should donate my worn-out shoes to charity?!”</p>
<p>“Ms Hill, come on-”</p>
<p>“Would YOU accept shoes that’d been worn right through the sole? I sure bloody wouldn’t!”</p>
<p>“Ms Hill!” Edgeworth slammed on the desk again. “The court is not a place for venting and ranting about walking and shoes! For the love of all that is holy, <em>please</em> stay on topic!”</p>
<p>Jack finally went quiet in shock.</p>
<p>She awkwardly cleared her throat.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’ve been holding that in for a while.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Phoenix muttered to Edgeworth. “So Ms Hill, only five minutes, you said?”</p>
<p>“Again, the steps were slippery,” said Jack, “so it was roughly, ah…” She looked up at the ceiling, tapping her foot again. “Double that? Ten minutes, maybe? My feet were half frozen by the time I made it inside.”</p>
<p>Ten minutes, Phoenix wrote in his journal, and he added a note about it normally taking half so that he didn’t hurt Jack’s feelings.</p>
<p>“So when you arrived,” he said, “you just walked into the Skellig residence uninvited?”</p>
<p>He could swear he heard a quiet growl from the prosecutor’s bench.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t say uninvited, per se,” Jack replied when she was sure she wouldn’t get interrupted again. “Ms Skellig knew I was coming and she left the front door open for me. Said she was busy, what with the fugitives and all that.”</p>
<p>Phoenix froze.</p>
<p>If he’d gripped his pencil any tighter, he could have snapped it in two.</p>
<p>“…ah,” he said when he realised he’d gone quiet. “Yeah. The fugitives. Professor Layton and my daughter.”</p>
<p>He looked up at the court with as much unstated fury as he could muster.</p>
<p>“The people you’ve decided not to search for today,” he said bitterly, “because this farce of a trial is apparently more important.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?!” spat Michaela.</p>
<p>“Watch how you go, Wright,” Edgeworth warned as a quiet buzz of disdain rippled through the gallery. “You don’t have these people on your side just yet, so don’t go tempting fate.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know, I know,” Phoenix groaned, and he looked back up at the courtroom. “But isn’t it an unspoken rule that the villagers don’t go outside at night if they can avoid it?”</p>
<p>“This was my <em>business</em>, Mr Wright,” Jack pointed out. “Sometimes people want to stick by that, but don’t have the energy or ingredients to cook their own dinners. And heck, you’ve seen people coming over to mine for a drink!”</p>
<p>She put one hand on her hip and smiled with pride.</p>
<p>“Besides,” she said, “I’ve gotten pretty good at avoiding the Painted King’s horde by now. Though I didn’t get any orders <em>or</em> many customers last night, seeing as we didn’t have a Minstrel...”</p>
<p>She turned her glare to the impromptu co-counsel.</p>
<p>“I shan’t apologise for trying not to die,” Edgeworth stated.</p>
<p>“I hope you two are happy with yourselves,” said Michaela. “Those spirits were more riled up than ever last night. Unless someone plays the Silver Violin tonight, I won’t be surprised if they all come in from the mountains to kill <em>everyone</em>.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth just tutted again.</p>
<p>“Please tell me you don’t believe in that nonsense, Wright,” he said.</p>
<p>Phoenix tried not to groan again.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth, I don’t want to,” he said, “but if what I saw last night was any indication, what she says might actually be possible.”</p>
<p>“Listen!” snapped Jack. “I didn’t <em>want</em> to be out that late, alright? But my oven was being stubborn and that chicken took forever to cook. Not just that, but my stove packed in as well and I had to steam the vegetables and heat everything up with a crappy little camping stove!”</p>
<p>If it was anything like the camping stove that Phoenix had to bust out when his landlord shut his gas off, he had no choice but to empathise with her plight.</p>
<p>“I see,” he said as he jotted this down. “That must have been rather frustrating. No wonder you got there so late.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth crossed his arms and tapped one finger on his elbow.</p>
<p>“Was your customer at all upset with you?” he asked.</p>
<p>Phoenix frowned. Was this guy about to suggest that Jack was the murderer?</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig was a patient woman, Mr Edgeworth,” Jack solemnly replied. “When I got there and told her I’d arrived, she didn’t even mention the delay.”</p>
<p>“What a saint,” Phoenix muttered to himself.</p>
<p>He shot an angry glance at Edgeworth and noted down those details.</p>
<p>“Do you think she was already dead by the time you knocked on her door the second time?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I, um…” Jack leaned on the table and twisted one foot from side to side. “I don’t know. To be honest, I’ve been trying not to think about that.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” said Phoenix. “I know it’s pretty morbid, but I’d like to know your opinion.”</p>
<p>Jack kept frowning and fixed her eyes on the floor.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t because I don’t know the actual time Ms Skellig died.”</p>
<p>“Do you have anything, Wright?” asked Edgeworth. “Surely there’s something in that journal of yours to suggest if Ms Hill could have overheard the murder.”</p>
<p>Phoenix hesitated.</p>
<p>He did, didn’t he? He flipped back through his journal to his evidence list so that he could make sure that-</p>
<p>Yes, he did. His note about the victim’s autopsy, in lieu of the report he didn’t have yet. Jack said she’d arrived at ten to ten, and the note he had said 9:52pm…</p>
<p>“There is,” he reported, and he looked back up at the court.</p>
<p>“Hang on.” Edgeworth leaned in close and peered at a doodle in the corner of the page. “Wright, is that what you think of me?!”</p>
<p>Phoenix ignored the question. Not because his feelings were hurt, but because seeing Edgeworth annoyed like that was way too goddamn funny.</p>
<p>“Ms Hill,” he said, “the mayor’s watch broke when she hit the floor. Her time of death was exactly 9:52pm.”</p>
<p>Jack’s entire body suddenly went stiff.</p>
<p>“Oh…” she muttered. “…oh <em>god</em>…”</p>
<p>She caught herself on the witness stand to avoid collapsing.</p>
<p>“I was right there!” she exclaimed. “I was just in the other room! I was in the middle of reheating the soup and she was <em>dying</em> just across the hall!” She dug her fingers into her hair. “I thought she was still busy, so I left it in the kitchen for her and-”</p>
<p>She fell to her knees, elbows on the tabletop and fingers still pressed into her scalp.</p>
<p>“Oh god…” she whispered over and over. “…oh my god…”</p>
<p>“Please calm down, Ms Hill,” Michaela spoke up. “My mother’s death wasn’t your fault.”</p>
<p>She accompanied that statement with another venomous glare at the defence bench, to which Edgeworth just shrugged.</p>
<p>“She had her reasons for keeping her door locked,” she explained, “and it isn’t our place to question them.”</p>
<p>“Look, I get that,” snapped Jack, suddenly looking up from her elbows, “but I still feel guilty about it, alright? I was literally in the next room and I didn’t hear a bloody thing! I arrived at 9:50, left at 9:55 and went straight home to bed!”</p>
<p>She hung her head again, her partially braided hair brushing against the tabletop.</p>
<p>“…she was already dead…” Phoenix heard her whisper.</p>
<p>“I understand your horror, Ms Hill,” Phoenix told her. “If it helps, I’ve been in that situation too.”</p>
<p>He decided not to go into detail about the horrific night that had seen him walking into his office to find his boss’s little sister weeping over said boss’s still-warm corpse.</p>
<p>If he’d just been <em>one minute</em> sooner…</p>
<p>“But there’s something I’d like you to clarify for the court,” he said to push that out of his mind.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Jack asked with her head still hanging. “What is it?”</p>
<p>Phoenix thought back to those photos he’d only had a glimpse of back at the crime scene. Dammit, <em>why</em> had he insisted on Luke carrying them and then forgotten to bring them with him to this trial?! They were still in his goddamn satchel!</p>
<p>“According to what I’ve heard,” he lied, “Ms Skellig was killed by a hit to the head. Not only that, but the crime scene showed signs of a struggle. Are you absolutely sure you didn’t hear anything?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t, alright?” Jack snapped. “I was waiting by the microwave and it drowned everything out. If someone or some<em>thing</em> hit Ms Skellig round the head after some big long fight, I didn’t hear so much as a murmur of it!”</p>
<p>“I’ll admit there’s something I’ve been curious about as well,” Edgeworth said before Phoenix could decide what to ask next. “Ms Hill, in your professional opinion as a lifelong resident of this village, is it possible that one of those spirits we’ve all been talking about could strike a person around the head hard enough to be fatal?”</p>
<p>Jack looked up again, still kneeling behind the witness stand, and thumped her arms onto the tabletop.</p>
<p>“I…” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “We’ve had a Minstrel for as long as I can remember. Last night was the first night in forever that’s been quiet. I think the last quiet night before that was…” She frowned in thought. “…maybe when I was eight? I don’t remember all that well.”</p>
<p>Phoenix gritted his teeth and pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth to keep himself from sighing again.</p>
<p>“Translation,” he said. “You don’t know.”</p>
<p>Jack pressed herself back up to her feet again.</p>
<p>“…sorry,” she said quietly.</p>
<p>“You don’t have anything to apologise for, Ms Hill,” said Michaela. “It certainly isn’t <em>your</em> fault last night was silent.”</p>
<p>Yet another glare was spat at the defence bench.</p>
<p>“…moving on,” said Phoenix before that could escalate again.</p>
<p>“Wright, exactly how many times have you used that journal to draw me in such an unflattering manner?” Edgeworth demanded.</p>
<p>Phoenix fought back the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you want to know?” he asked.</p>
<p>Edgeworth took a step back.</p>
<p>“…no,” he said.</p>
<p>“It’s a lot,” Phoenix told him. “I was bored. I regret nothing.”</p>
<p>He flipped back to his cross-examination page, hoping Edgeworth might prefer the near-photorealistic sketch of a human eye that he’d drawn in the bottom corner.</p>
<p>“You never entered Ms Skellig’s office or saw her body?” he asked Jack.</p>
<p>Jack twisted her foot on the floor again.</p>
<p>“No,” she replied. “Her door was locked and I didn’t dare try to get it open. She was the <em>mayor</em>, after all.”</p>
<p>She somehow found the composure to shrug.</p>
<p>“It was only bread and soup,” she pointed out. “I assumed she’d come out and get it when she was ready.”</p>
<p>“If the defence would be so kind,” said Michaela, “I’d like to ask a question they apparently didn’t think of.”</p>
<p>Phoenix frowned. He didn’t like where this might be going.</p>
<p>Then again, if he tried to turn her down, this could easily lead to the awful situation that Edgeworth had helped him dig his way out of not one hour prior.</p>
<p>“You think we missed something?” he said. “Go ahead.”</p>
<p>Michaela adjusted her glasses again and turned her stern steel-grey eyes to Jack.</p>
<p>“Ms Hill,” she said, “between the time you left the King’s Arms to when you returned, did you hear the Minstrel playing?”</p>
<p>Jack’s eyes wandered all over the place.</p>
<p>“Hmm…” she hummed in thought. “…no. No, I didn’t. Come to think of it, it’d already been quiet for around an hour. To be honest, I assumed he’d just stopped for a break.”</p>
<p>She took a moment to shoot an apologetic smile in Edgeworth’s direction.</p>
<p>“So you acknowledge that around the time of death,” said Michaela, “the Minstrel was not performing his assigned duty of soothing the Painted King and his horde?”</p>
<p>A shot of dread pulsed through Phoenix’s veins.</p>
<p>“…crud,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“No, he wasn’t,” Jack replied.</p>
<p>“And do you further acknowledge,” Michaela continued, “that it’s very possible an enraged spirit could have entered the house, perhaps following you inside to avoid the iron window frames intended to dissuade them?”</p>
<p>She slammed on her desk again.</p>
<p>“And that it could have used its time in our house to kill my mother?”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s heart plummeted and settled somewhere around his knees.</p>
<p>“…yes,” Jack said sadly. “I don’t think I have any choice but to acknowledge that.”</p>
<p>“And if you had to make a guess regarding who’s responsible for that spirit being in a murderous mood,” Michaela relentlessly went on, “who would you pick?”</p>
<p>Jack took a deep breath and shrank into her shoulders again.</p>
<p>“…the Minstrel,” she said meekly, “for failing to keep them calm.”</p>
<p>Another soft ripple of whispering spread through the gallery, too quiet for Phoenix to pick up on what any of them were saying but loud enough for him to tell that <em>none</em> of it was good.</p>
<p>“For now, Your Honour,” Michaela said to the judge, “the prosecution rests.”</p>
<p>As did all of Phoenix’s hopes of sealing this trial with a win for the defence.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Ms Skellig,” said the judge. “I appreciate your professionalism.”</p>
<p>“Crud,” Phoenix muttered again.</p>
<p>“Wright, why in the world did you let her ask that question?!” Edgeworth hissed furiously.</p>
<p>“Because I didn’t know what she was going to ask, alright?” Phoenix shot back.</p>
<p>“You should’ve at least spoken up!”</p>
<p>“I’m rusty, give me a break!”</p>
<p>Edgeworth sighed and pinched his brow.</p>
<p>“I certainly hope you can salvage this,” he told Phoenix. “I’d hate to see you lose on our first bloody witness.”</p>
<p>Phoenix froze.</p>
<p>What had Edgeworth just said?</p>
<p>“…first witness…” he murmured, remembering his thoughts from the trial’s beginning.</p>
<p>Their first witness was Jack Hill, the innkeeper who had delivered the victim’s evening meal and had been present during the time of her death.</p>
<p>But why was it <em>her? </em>What was she doing here <em>now?</em></p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” he spoke up, “can you tell me something?”</p>
<p>Michaela smiled at him. Somehow with her eyes open, she looked even more incredibly smug than she had before.</p>
<p>“Go ahead, Mr Wright,” she said confidently.</p>
<p>“Why was Ms Hill your first witness,” Phoenix said, “and not the person who was assigned to investigate the crime scene?”</p>
<p>Michaela’s eyes flickered to one side. Her smug smile started to slip away.</p>
<p>“…well…” was all she said.</p>
<p>“Now that you mention it,” the judge said thoughtfully, “that <em>is</em> a good point."</p>
<p>He turned his disdainful gaze upon Michaela.</p>
<p>“What’s the meaning of this, Michaela?” he asked. “I’m as eager to find justice for your mother as you are, but as Mr Edgeworth pointed out, we should try to be fair and level-headed about it. Why was Ms Hill called to testify first and not the crime scene investigator?”</p>
<p>Michaela coiled a lock of platinum blonde around her finger. Before today, she had looked calm, thoughtful, almost demure when she did that. Now she just looked aloof. If anything, downright <em>cruel</em>.</p>
<p>“As the person who made a delivery during the victim’s time of death,” she said, “Ms Hill was the first to spring to my mind as a witness. I didn’t think about Dr Wallace because he’s only been here for a few days, not even a full week. I barely even remembered that he existed.”</p>
<p>“<em>Ouch</em>.” Phoenix winced at her comment. “I’m pretty sure he might be in the room right now!”</p>
<p>“Surprisingly enough, you make a good point, Wright,” said Edgeworth, and he slapped his hand full force on the table. “Ms Skellig, regardless of the nature of the offence, the crime scene investigator should <em>always</em> be the first person called to testify.”</p>
<p>He pointed at the witness stand, waggling his finger as if to hammer his point home.</p>
<p>“Ergo,” he said, “I request that you immediately make up for your mistake.”</p>
<p>If looks could kill, it would be Michaela who was being put on trial for murder. She glared at Edgeworth as though hoping the daggers she was shooting would disembowel him where he stood.</p>
<p>But when she realised she <em>couldn’t</em> kill with just her gaze, she sighed and rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>“Very well,” she said. “Thank you for your assistance, Ms Hill. You’re welcome to step down.”</p>
<p>“Phew, thanks,” Jack said with a smile. “I hadn’t expected testifying to be so stressful!”</p>
<p>She turned on the spot to face the gallery and thrust her hand into the air.</p>
<p>“To get us through these troubling times,” she shouted, “drinks are on me tonight!”</p>
<p>Her declaration was followed by several shouts of “Yes!” as well as fist pumping, whoops of joy and smattered delighted applause.</p>
<p>“Wow,” Phoenix said as he watched her find a place in the crowd. “She didn’t even need to threaten anyone.”</p>
<p>He suddenly felt intense eyes powering into the back of his head, and quickly figured out that it was coming from right beside him.</p>
<p>“Wright,” said Edgeworth, “sometimes I get concerned about what you provoke in women.”</p>
<p>Phoenix just shrugged. He’d learned by now that he couldn’t do much to prevent the fairer sex from expressing nothing but profound hatred for his mere existence.</p>
<p>“Your Honour,” said Michaela, “I believe I may need a recess to prepare my next witness. That being said, I hereby call the assigned crime scene investigator, Dr Bill Wallace, to the stand.”</p>
<p>“I understand,” the judge said with a nod. “Fifteen minutes should be enough, correct?”</p>
<p>Michaela nodded.</p>
<p>“Very well,” said the judge. “This court is now in recess.”</p>
<p>He slammed his gavel on his lectern.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Phoenix slapped his hands against the freezing wall to support himself as he struggled for breath.</p>
<p>“That was ri-goddamn-diculous!” he gasped. “Did you <em>see</em> those guys back there?!”</p>
<p>“Being perfectly honest,” said Edgeworth, “one of the reasons I stepped in for you was because I felt downright sorry for you. You looked <em>pathetic</em> up there by yourself.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to rub it in!” Phoenix spat. “And don’t forget <em>you’re</em> the one who’s on trial here!”</p>
<p>“Again…” muttered Edgeworth.</p>
<p>He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside Phoenix.</p>
<p>“At least this time,” he said, “you’ll find me delighted to say I didn’t do it. As a matter of fact, for perhaps the first time in history, you may know more about this crime than I do.”</p>
<p>“No shit, I know more than you!” Phoenix snapped as he straightened up.</p>
<p>“Ugh, look, I understand that you’re stressed,” Edgeworth sighed, “but could you at least <em>try</em> to avoid cussing at me?”</p>
<p>Phoenix pressed his hand into his hair, having finally snatched back an even breath.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he said, and he unzipped his jacket and reached in. “Okay, since you’re my co-counsel as well as my client now, you’d better have a look at my evidence list.” He opened it and flipped through until he found that list. “Go ahead and ask me if there’s anything you’re confused about.”</p>
<p>He passed the book over to Edgeworth, who held it <em>way</em> closer to his face than he should have needed.</p>
<p>Did this guy need glasses or something?</p>
<p>He frowned as he scanned over the list, no doubt offended by how godawful Phoenix’s handwriting was.</p>
<p>“Not much of an autopsy report,” he grumbled.</p>
<p>“That’s because I don’t have the proper one yet,” Phoenix explained. “I’m hoping Dr Wallace can provide us with more details.”</p>
<p>It suddenly occurred to him that this was a golden opportunity that he was <em>never</em> going to get again.</p>
<p>“And then,” he said with his most smarmy grin, “it’ll be <em>my</em> turn to update the autopsy report.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth tutted and rolled his eyes again, but Phoenix didn’t regret a single word he had just said.</p>
<p>“So there was a sign of a struggle in the office,” Edgeworth read, “yet the door was locked from the inside. I assume the windows were intact as well?”</p>
<p>“You got that right,” said Phoenix, glancing over his shoulder at where the Skellig house stood. “As far as I could tell, the only person who was ever in the room that night was our victim.”</p>
<p>“Who had a safe…” Edgeworth’s eyes fell further down the page. “…that I assume you broke into to find all these things you’ve listed.”</p>
<p>“We were investigating,” Phoenix pointed out. “That’s probable cause.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth sighed again. Why the heck was it so fun to see him annoyed?</p>
<p>“If you say so,” he groaned, but then his eyes widened in horror. “Good grief! A murder weapon?!”</p>
<p>“Ssh!” Phoenix fought back the urge to slap a hand over his friend’s mouth. “Keep that ace in the hole, why don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Sorry, sorry,” Edgeworth hissed, and he obediently went back to reading the list. “A prescription? I have a feeling I’m not caught up enough on the village gossip to know why you felt the need to include that.”</p>
<p>He frowned as he got a little further down.</p>
<p>“Her personal journal?” he read. “You’d better not have taken a peek.”</p>
<p>“Not yet,” said Phoenix. “I’ve been a bit too busy for it, and besides, I don’t think I’d like what I found.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth nodded in understanding without even looking up from the journal.</p>
<p>“Binoculars?” he read. “Somehow I doubt she was a stargazer…”</p>
<p>His tracking eyes halted not one inch below.</p>
<p>“What on earth?” He leaned in closer to the page. “What in the world is… carbamazepine?”</p>
<p>“Crud,” Phoenix sighed. “I kind of hoped you might have a clue. It’s definitely medication because it was in a pharmaceutical medication box, but I don’t have any idea what it’s for.”</p>
<p>“Well, our next witness will apparently be a doctor,” Edgeworth pointed out, “so this may be your best chance to ask…”</p>
<p>He trailed off with another confused frown.</p>
<p>“Why did you feel the need to include the Sacred Well?” he asked.</p>
<p>“It could end up being useful,” Phoenix replied with a shrug, “you don’t know.”</p>
<p>“It’s a <em>pond</em>, Wright,” Edgeworth said flatly. “What on earth could be useful about a pond?”</p>
<p>“You know as well as I do that certain pieces of evidence can look useless,” said Phoenix, “and then turn out to be pivotal. For all you know, the Sacred Well could be exactly what I need to turn this stupid trial on its head.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth just turned his frown in Phoenix’s direction.</p>
<p>“I’ll take your word for it,” he said.</p>
<p>He read over the next point on the list. if Phoenix remembered correctly, that was his note about what Jack had told him yesterday.</p>
<p>“Ah, there’s a pleasant memory,” he said. “Nice to know who I can blame for it.”</p>
<p>Yeah, that seemed about right.</p>
<p>“And your magatama?” Edgeworth snapped the journal shut. “You really think <em>that</em> could be vital?”</p>
<p>Phoenix inwardly groaned. Miles Edgeworth: if aliens abducted a ghost right in front of his eyes, he would pass it off as a trick of the light on swamp gas.</p>
<p>“With everything I’ve learned about this village,” Phoenix said, “it could end up being the most important thing on that list.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth hesitated, journal still in hand.</p>
<p>“If it hadn’t been for that outrageous case at that mountain temple,” he eventually said, “I might find myself inclined to disagree. I can, however, see how the spiritual power supposedly within that amulet may relate to this <em>supposedly</em> haunted village.”</p>
<p>But as he reached the end of that sentence, he froze up again.</p>
<p>“Wright?” He frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”</p>
<p>Phoenix rubbed his face. He hadn’t even realised he was looking at Edgeworth with anything other than curious expectation. Whether it be jet lag or trouble sleeping in the cold, his time on this side of the planet was <em>not</em> treating him well.</p>
<p>“At the risk of sounding cliché,” he said, “if you could see the things I’ve seen, you’d probably think differently.”</p>
<p>He didn’t even want to mention being able to see those spirits without looking through a stone. Especially not to Edgeworth, the most likely man to tell him he was hallucinating.</p>
<p>“If you say so,” Edgeworth shrugged, and he handed the journal back to Phoenix. “Do you suppose Trucy will be alright with your <em>dear friend</em> Hershel?”</p>
<p>Phoenix pretended to ignore how he’d said that last part as he stowed his journal safely inside his jacket.</p>
<p>“Leaving aside what I think you might be implying,” he said, “she’ll be fine. They’ll all be fine. If there’s anyone I would trust to keep the kids safe, it’s the Professor.”</p>
<p>He leaned back against the cold stone wall, allowing himself the liberty of a small smile.</p>
<p>“I don’t think he’s got kids of his own,” he went on, “but the guy’s got ‘dad’ written all over him. One of those leaps-into-action-when-loved-ones-are-hurt types, you know?”</p>
<p>He looked over at Edgeworth, waiting for a response.</p>
<p>“Sounds like the two of you are perfectly matched,” was what he got.</p>
<p>“Hey, shut up!” Phoenix whined.</p>
<p>“I mean it,” Edgeworth said. “You're too loving for your own good, Wright. Did you never consider that your life might be easier if you had only been taking care of yourself these past two years? You never thought Trucy might be better off being cared for by someone else?”</p>
<p>Phoenix struggled to think of a reply.</p>
<p>“Did you even think at all when you offered her a place in your home?” Edgeworth demanded.</p>
<p>Memories of two nights ago came flooding back all at once, and Phoenix rubbed his face again as if it would somehow chase them out.</p>
<p>“Of course I did,” he replied. “It’s one of the only things I’ve been thinking of at all in the time since I took her in.”</p>
<p>He glared at Edgeworth as angrily as he could.</p>
<p>“Did <em>you</em> never consider that she might be one of the only reasons I’m still alive?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth’s eyes widened in shock.</p>
<p>“…no,” he said weakly. “I hadn’t.”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t say anything. Part of him hoped he wouldn’t need to.</p>
<p>As he had hoped, Edgeworth’s face fell in defeat.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t ever been in a position like yours. I wouldn’t know the first thing about what it’s like.”</p>
<p>He put a hand on Phoenix’s arm.</p>
<p>“Wright,” he said, “if you ever need somebody to talk to-”</p>
<p>“I know,” Phoenix interjected, shaking the hand away. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but of all the people who could’ve come out here and gotten caught up in this mess, I’m glad it was you.”</p>
<p>The remark caused Edgeworth to scoff.</p>
<p>“Truth be told,” he said, “so am I. Can you even imagine if it was Detective Gumshoe in my place?”</p>
<p>“Oh god.” Phoenix snorted into his hand.</p>
<p>“Or if it was Franziska?”</p>
<p>He snorted even harder.</p>
<p>“She’d never let that happen,” he pointed out. “That mayor wouldn’t put up with her for a day, let alone a month! By the time I got here, she’d be BEGGING us to take her back!”</p>
<p>“Or worst of all…” Edgeworth paused, apparently just for the sake of drama. “…if it was <em>Larry</em>.”</p>
<p>Phoenix snort-laughed so hard that it made his throat hurt.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth, <em>no!</em>” he cried. “Think of this village! Have these people not suffered enough?!”</p>
<p>Even Edgeworth managed a small laugh at that horrifying thought, and Phoenix tried to pull his poker face back up in case any of Fatargan’s people were somehow watching him.</p>
<p>“I don’t think we have anything to worry about for now,” he told Edgeworth once he had fought back his smile. “I know Dr Wallace by now. He’s a decent guy. He’s going to try to be impartial, like a witness should, but he’ll be gunning for our team. Told me as much about the last trial I was in.”</p>
<p>“Do try not to get overconfident, Wright,” Edgeworth warned. “It’ll only be more painful when he kicks the chair out from under your feet.”</p>
<p>“I know, I know,” said Phoenix.</p>
<p>He looked out at the view again, focusing on the isolated neighbourhood that sat on the other side of the bridge. Even if he was close enough to look inside, he doubted he’d be able to make out any movement in the Professor’s cottage.</p>
<p>“Here’s hoping Hershel can come back with something that’ll help,” he told Edgeworth. “He isn’t the type who’d just run back home to hide if he found something important.”</p>
<p>His statement was met with a tut.</p>
<p>“If he’s investigating caves, what on earth could he find that’d be important to this case?” asked Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“Like it or not,” said Phoenix, “this case is completely built around these people’s faith in the Painted King. You know, the guy Hershel’s gone to investigate? You really think he wouldn’t try to keep us updated?”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t know!” snapped Edgeworth. “I don’t know him half as well as you do. What if he <em>doesn’t</em> come up with something?”</p>
<p>Phoenix shrugged, relieved that he’d had so many opportunities to practise his poker face.</p>
<p>“I’ve done more with less,” he replied.</p>
<p>Edgeworth rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“You certainly know how to inspire confidence in a man,” he said, and Phoenix gave him a prideful, cheeky grin.</p>
<p>The conversation was interrupted by another knock on the door.</p>
<p>“Hey,” said Jack, leaning through to look at them. “We’re almost ready. You’d better come back in.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Jack,” Phoenix said, and the young woman ducked back inside.</p>
<p>He turned back to Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“You ready?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth shot him another annoyed glare.</p>
<p>“You make it sound as though we have a choice,” he pointed out.</p>
<p>Phoenix just gave him a shrug.</p>
<p>“Let’s get this over with,” he said, and he held the door open for his friend to go back inside.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. The Fall of the House of Skellig part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The judge slammed his toffee hammer on his lectern, and Phoenix tried to ignore how it cracked through his skull.</p>
<p>“Court will now reconvene,” he declared, and he glared down at the court. “I trust that the defence and prosecution are both prepared to continue?”</p>
<p>“That we are, Your Honour,” Phoenix replied.</p>
<p>Beside him, he heard Edgeworth scoff.</p>
<p>“Would you expect any less?” he asked.</p>
<p>Phoenix cringed at the sound of his voice.</p>
<p>“You know,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, “these people might hate you less if you weren’t so insufferable and goddamn <em>smug</em>.”</p>
<p>“I take pride in my skills, Wright,” Edgeworth replied. “Perhaps that’s something you could try someday.”</p>
<p>Again, Phoenix decided to avoid showing any reaction. The last thing he wanted was to give Edgeworth something else to be satisfied about.</p>
<p>He turned to Michaela instead, who stood behind her bench, hugging her shoulders and frowning into the middle distance.</p>
<p>“Let’s get this over with,” she said bitterly. “I hereby call the medical examiner who investigated the scene to testify.”</p>
<p>She turned to face the witness stand, and Phoenix followed suit, seeing Edgeworth doing the same out of the corner of his eye.</p>
<p>They didn’t have long to wait before Dr Wallace stepped up to the stand, looking somehow more dishevelled than ever. His five-o’clock shadow was now enough to rival Phoenix’s and his hair, still pulled back into its ponytail, was unwashed and messy. He looked like he’d tied it right after waking up, combing or brushing be damned, and his olive-coloured eyes were surrounded by heavy shadows.</p>
<p>He held his bag in one hand, no doubt prepared in case Phoenix suffered another panic attack, but his other hand was occupied by the bonsai tree he cupped to his chest.</p>
<p>“Man, he <em>really</em> likes that thing,” Phoenix muttered to himself.</p>
<p>The doctor set his bonsai down on the table and gave its branches an affectionate pat.</p>
<p>“Witness,” said Michaela, “please state your name and profession to the court.”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace looked up with an exhausted sigh.</p>
<p>“My name is Bill Wallace,” he replied. “I’m a doctor and I run the local clinic. Do you get that?”</p>
<p>He leaned forward, bracing himself on the table and slamming his bag down beside him in full view of the court.</p>
<p>“I’m a doctor,” he said solidly. “A GP. I examine people’s symptoms, make diagnoses and then prescribe treatments. Alright? I am a <em>Doc. Tor. </em>Not a crime scene investigator and certainly not a bloody coroner!”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s heart went out to the man in sympathy. If there was anything he could relate to, it was the desire to do his job while being surrounded by other people who didn’t want to give him the chance.</p>
<p>“My apologies, Dr Wallace,” said the judge, “but when it comes to matters of the human body, you’re the best we’ve got.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dr Wallace replied. “<em>Living</em> human bodies. I came to Fatargan so that I <em>wasn’t</em> surrounded by corpses all the time!”</p>
<p>“Good grief, what on earth was this man doing before?” asked Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” said Phoenix, “and at this point, I’m afraid to ask.”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace straightened up and crossed his arms with a huff.</p>
<p>“Very well, Dr Wallace,” said Michaela. “Could you please present your findings to the court?”</p>
<p>The doctor sighed and rubbed a hand over his messy hair.</p>
<p>“Fine,” he said. “Not like I have much of a choice.”</p>
<p>He popped his bag open and dug a pair of thin manila folders out of its depths, and he dropped them onto the tabletop.</p>
<p>“As I’m sure you all know by now,” he said, “the victim in this case was one Angela Skellig, aged 52.”</p>
<p>Phoenix froze up in shock. 52? That woman was <em>fifty-two?!</em></p>
<p>Whatever skincare routine she had been using, he wished he could have asked her about it.</p>
<p>“The cause of death was cerebral haemorrhaging,” the doctor continued, “caused by a blow to the back of the head. Time of death was approximately 9:52pm, evidenced by the victim’s wristwatch breaking upon contact with the floor.”</p>
<p>He picked up the folders he’d extracted and walked out from behind the stand.</p>
<p>“I took the liberty of compiling a file on my findings,” he explained as he deposited one of them on the prosecution’s bench, “which I would like to share with the defence and the prosecution if the court would allow it.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” said the judge as Dr Wallace approached the defence. “The court accepts the post-mortem report into evidence.”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace nodded and tossed the second folder onto the table in front of Edgeworth, who opened it to have a look while Phoenix flipped back to his evidence list and updated his little note on the autopsy report.</p>
<p>The doctor, however, hesitated halfway back to the witness stand.</p>
<p>“If I understand correctly, Ms Skellig,” he said, “you’re the victim’s daughter, correct?”</p>
<p>Michaela froze with her trembling fingers on the folder’s cover.</p>
<p>“Yes,” she replied softly.</p>
<p>The doctor took his place back at the stand, giving his bonsai another gentle stroke across its branches.</p>
<p>“I’d like to warn you that I’ve included photographs of the crime scene in the file I’ve provided,” he told the prosecution. “I understand that this must be a difficult time for you, so it would be best if you were prepared.”</p>
<p>“Oh, um…” Michaela slowly pulled the folder closer to herself. “Thank you. I appreciate the warning.”</p>
<p>Phoenix tried to keep himself from staring as he lowered his journal and pencil.</p>
<p>“Huh,” he said, making sure he was only loud enough for Edgeworth to hear. “Looks like he’s actually learned about bedside manner since we last saw him.”</p>
<p>“Or at the very least, about courtroom manner, not that I have the appropriate context,” Edgeworth replied. “Come along, Wright. Have a look.”</p>
<p>After marking his page with his pencil, Phoenix rested his journal on the table and nudged Edgeworth aside so that he could get a better look at the photos.</p>
<p>They were the same pictures Dr Wallace had shown him yesterday – one of the overall scene, complete with a clear view of Angela Skellig’s empty, lifeless face, and one a close-up of her broken watch displaying the time – so thank god he wasn’t going to have to wait for Luke to come back before he could refer to them.</p>
<p>He glanced up at Edgeworth. How was this guy going to react to seeing the fallen body of the woman who’d arranged for him to be physically and psychologically tortured for an entire month?</p>
<p>Apparently, with blank indifference. He was just staring at the photos. No reaction whatsoever.</p>
<p>“Wow,” he said flatly. “You were correct, Wright. That bloodstain does look oddly watered down.”</p>
<p>Phoenix swallowed. He knew for a fact that Edgeworth would just be annoyed if he got called out on his lack of reaction.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t even dried by the time I got there with Luke,” he said. “We had to be very careful not to step in it.”</p>
<p>“Not only that,” Edgeworth said, holding the photo up to the light, “but it’s far more spread out than a standard blood pool from a death by bludgeoning.”</p>
<p>“So,” said Phoenix, “we’re in agreement that-”</p>
<p>“I suspect there may have been water mixed in with the blood found at the crime scene,” Dr Wallace interrupted before Phoenix could get even halfway through his sentence, “given the diluted nature of the pool. I haven’t had a chance to perform an analysis, but I suspect that the diluting was with water, nothing more complicated than that.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth lowered the photo with another smug smile at Phoenix.</p>
<p>“There you go,” he said.</p>
<p>Phoenix groaned. Why couldn’t <em>he</em> have been the one to explain his thoughts?</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he sighed, “can’t argue with that.”</p>
<p>He looked across the room at Michaela, who was examining the photos spread before her with a face of absolute rapture. From this distance, Phoenix could just about see which photo was which, and he saw her gently trace her fingertips over the image that showed her mother staring emptily at the ceiling.</p>
<p>“Doctor,” she said without looking up, “do you know where that water might have come from?”</p>
<p>“If I may, Ms Skellig?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>She still didn’t look up, but her silence told him that he had her attention.</p>
<p>“When I visited the victim’s office only a few days ago,” he explained, “she had a number of ice sculptures on her mantlepiece. It’s possible that one of those sculptures was knocked down during the murder and melted under the heat of her body.”</p>
<p>“O-oh…” Michaela said numbly.</p>
<p>She adjusted her glasses again and ripped her eyes away from the photo.</p>
<p>“What about the murder weapon?” she asked the witness. “If she was killed by a blow to the head, how was that blow delivered?”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace just shrugged.</p>
<p>“Haven’t the foggiest,” he replied. “The officers gave me a forensics kit so that I could have a poke around with luminol and fingerprinting powder and the like, but that luminol didn’t turn up blood residue on anything other than the office floor. If there was a murder weapon, it’s possible the killer took it with them.”</p>
<p>“There’s, um…” Michaela swept the photos back into the folder and slapped it shut. “Doctor, don’t forget that there are other possibilities to consider. It may not have necessarily been an object that delivered the killing blow.”</p>
<p>She swallowed hard as she pressed up her glasses again.</p>
<p>“Did you examine the desk?” she asked. “Mother may have hit her head on the edge or the corner.”</p>
<p>The doctor on the stand froze up in shock.</p>
<p>“…no,” he said. “I didn’t.”</p>
<p>“But I did,” Phoenix spoke up before Dr Wallace could be punished for his mistake. “My investigative partner and I took a look at the desk, the chairs, everything, and we turned up nothing. As the Doc said, the only traces of blood in the whole office were on the floor.”</p>
<p>Nobody in the court said a word.</p>
<p>Why did Phoenix suddenly feel like he had just confessed to some terrible crime?</p>
<p>“And why were <em>you</em> conducting some private investigation, Mr Wright?” asked the judge.</p>
<p>“U-um…” Phoenix cleared his throat. “Shall we just go on to your actual testimony, Doc?”</p>
<p>“Don’t ignore me!” the judge demanded.</p>
<p>Phoenix cringed again. He should have known that the notion of a lawyer investigating a crime scene wouldn’t be as widely accepted as it was back home. Best to move on before any of these people had a chance to ask awkward questions.</p>
<p>“Very well,” said Dr Wallace, “although what you hope to gain from it, I have no idea.”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat. Crud, was he not going to show <em>any</em> hesitation? Phoenix scrambled to get to his journal’s next blank page and hoped against hope that he didn’t look like too much of a fumbling idiot.</p>
<p>“From what I’ve been told,” said Dr Wallace, “the victim’s body was discovered at 7am yesterday. She had already been dead for around nine hours by then. As you can see from the photos, there was evidence of a struggle at the crime scene. I didn’t find anything else suspicious in the rest of the house.”</p>
<p>He picked up his bonsai tree and hugged it to his chest again.</p>
<p>The rest of the court stayed silent, save for occasional shuffles and Phoenix’s scribbling pencil.</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s it?” asked the judge, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Thank you for your brevity, Doctor.”</p>
<p>“Like I said,” said Dr Wallace, adjusting his grip on his bonsai, “I’m not sure how much it’ll help.”</p>
<p>Still the courtroom was silent, including the prosecution. Michaela simply stood in place, hugging her arms, staring emptily at the file on her desk. Phoenix, meanwhile, sighed in relief as he finished his note taking.</p>
<p>“What do you think, Wright?” asked Edgeworth. “Anything valuable in there?”</p>
<p>Phoenix looked over his shorthand and tried not to cringe at the sight of his horrific handwriting.</p>
<p>“Maybe,” he replied. “We’ve just got to dig below the surface and have a look.”</p>
<p>“Then let’s get ahold of some bloody trowels and start digging!” Edgeworth demanded.</p>
<p>“Alright, alright, you don’t have to push me like that!” Phoenix snapped, and he took a deep breath. “Okay…”</p>
<p>He straightened himself up and cleared his throat, shoehorning himself back into the right frame of mind for cross-examination.</p>
<p>“Do you know who first discovered the crime scene?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t the first to arrive,” Dr Wallace explained. “That would be those obnoxious police officers who think the whole identical twin schtick didn’t get old by the end of the first Harry Potter movie. They’re the ones who told me that the victim’s daughter was the first to discover the scene.”</p>
<p>“My goodness!” gasped the judge. “Michaela, it was you?”</p>
<p>Michaela frowned and clutched herself even tighter.</p>
<p>“Yes, it was,” she said. “However, <em>I’m</em> not the one under testimony at the moment.”</p>
<p>“Right, of course,” the judge said solemnly. “My most heartfelt apologies for such a horrific ordeal. Mr Wright, you may continue.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” said Phoenix, and he stayed focused on the witness stand. “So Doc, did you get to talk to Ms Skellig at all? How would you describe her behaviour?”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?!” Michaela slammed her hands on her bench. “Mr Wright, you CAN’T be saying you think I killed my mother!”</p>
<p>“Questions such as these are standard procedure, Ms Skellig,” Edgeworth replied before Phoenix could even take a breath. “Please trust us when we say that no offense is intended, especially against the victim’s family.”</p>
<p>Michaela hit him with another steely glare and went back to hugging her arms.</p>
<p>“I don’t trust a word out of your mouth, Minstrel,” she said bitterly, “but if I don’t allow the defence to do their jobs, then…”</p>
<p>Thank goodness. She was still willing to be reasonable.</p>
<p>“I didn’t have a chance to speak to Ms Skellig before she was ushered away to her neighbour’s house,” Dr Wallace explained, “but I did get a glimpse of her as she passed.”</p>
<p>For the briefest of moments, he looked over at the prosecution.</p>
<p>“She looked as though she had been crying for several hours already,” he said, “and didn’t show any signs of stopping. Given the context of the situation, I’m sure you would understand.”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” Phoenix replied. “This was her mom, after all. I’d be suspicious if she <em>wasn’t</em> crying her eyes out.”</p>
<p>“That’s enough,” snapped Michaela. “Can we please move on with the cross-examination?”</p>
<p>“Oh!” Dammit, of <em>course</em> she wouldn’t want to focus on this. “Yeah, yes, sure.”</p>
<p>Phoenix cringed again as he jotted down the information he’d been given.</p>
<p>“You certainly know how to win over women’s hearts, don’t you, Wright?” Edgeworth muttered to him.</p>
<p>“Like you’re one to talk, Edgeworth,” Phoenix replied. “You don’t have to take your bitterness out on me just because I’ve had at least one girlfriend while you’ve never had one boyfriend in your whole life-”</p>
<p>“Oh, do shut up and continue the cross-examination before I confess my guilt right here and now!”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”</p>
<p>“Is everything okay over there?” asked Dr Wallace.</p>
<p>“Yeah, we’re fine,” Phoenix lied. “Let’s keep going. Next question.”</p>
<p>He checked back over his testimony notes so that he knew what to ask and didn’t make himself look like even more of an idiot than he already had.</p>
<p>“The victim being dead for nine hours prior to discovery lines up with the time of death being close to 10pm,” he considered. “Was there anything in the environment that could have affected that estimate?”</p>
<p>Sometimes he impressed himself with how professional he sounded.</p>
<p>“How is that relevant?” Dr Wallace asked with a frown.</p>
<p>Then again, sometimes Phoenix surprised himself with how unbelievably <em>stupid</em> he sounded.</p>
<p>“I’m just going by the previous trial, Doc,” he explained. “The conditions Wrenkley Oldfart was found in made it difficult to tell the time of death. You said as much yourself.”</p>
<p>“Ah, I see,” said the doctor. “Normally the degree of digestion in stomach contents can help in determining the TOD, but the victim’s stomach was empty at the time of her death. She was, however, in a state of rigor mortis. If you’d like me to explain what-”</p>
<p>“Nope!” Phoenix said quickly. “No thank you! If I get curious, I’ll just look it up online! You got that? No thank you!”</p>
<p>“Wright, what’re you getting at?” demanded Edgeworth. “This could end up being vital!”</p>
<p>Phoenix tried to keep his breathing even so that he didn’t gag. His stomach was already churning at the memories of the last trial.</p>
<p>“Trust me, Edgeworth,” he said. “He’s just going to stand there and gross us all out for minutes on end until we beg him to stop.”</p>
<p>He rubbed his stomach and tried his hardest to ignore the annoyed glare Edgeworth was giving him.</p>
<p>“Not to sound like a filthy traitor,” Michaela spoke up, “but I agree with the defence. I’d prefer not to listen to another vivid description of human decomposition, especially given that the victim in this case is my <em>mother</em>.”</p>
<p>And now there were <em>two</em> prosecutors giving somebody an angry look.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes, I understand,” said Dr Wallace, behaving as though that angry look didn’t exist. “To provide some more detail, Mr Wright, the scene was very different to that of Mr Oldfart’s death. Ms Skellig was killed inside her office, so she was far more sheltered from the elements. Save for the wetness she was lying in, of course, but that wasn't anywhere near deep enough to affect decomposition-”</p>
<p>“We don’t need THAT many details, thank you, Doctor!” Phoenix interrupted.</p>
<p>He gave his stomach another rub as it let out a sickening gurgle.</p>
<p>“Why do I have a feeling you’re speaking from experience?” asked Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“I am,” Phoenix replied. “You don’t want to know.”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat. It was either that or dry heave.</p>
<p>“So Doc,” he said, “do you think you can just cut to the chase and tell us how long it took for the victim to die once she had been mortally wounded?”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace passed another look at Michaela. What the heck was going on here?</p>
<p>“The victim was rendered unconscious the moment the murder weapon made contact,” he explained. “She would have passed away only a few minutes later without ever waking up.”</p>
<p>He ran his fingers along the edge of his bonsai’s pot.</p>
<p>“Her death was entirely painless,” he said. “I could even say it would have been peaceful.”</p>
<p>From the prosecution bench came a deep, shuddering gasp. Michaela clasped her hands to her mouth and blinked tears out of her eyes.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Doctor,” she said softly.</p>
<p>She pulled a small packet of tissues out of her coat and wiped her face dry, watched by a witness who still seemed uncharacteristically gentle.</p>
<p>“Man, he really <em>is</em> being nice to Michaela,” Phoenix remarked.</p>
<p>“It isn’t our place to question the purpose of a man’s sympathetic behaviour, Wright,” said Edgeworth. “Let’s just continue with the cross-examination.”</p>
<p>Oh, so Edgeworth had the same idea, did he?</p>
<p>“Good call,” said Phoenix, “although if the witness starts hitting on the prosecution, we’re going to have a problem.”</p>
<p>“As if to imply that could be anything <em>except</em> a problem,” Edgeworth tutted.</p>
<p>Phoenix suddenly realised he might never have an opportunity like this one ever again.</p>
<p>“You said it,” he said, “Edgey-poo.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth outright <em>snarled</em> at him.</p>
<p>Phoenix, however, regretted nothing, and he finished taking notes on the doctor’s details with a self-satisfied smile.</p>
<p>Although he had to wipe it away only a few seconds later. The last thing he wanted in <em>this</em> trial was to look like he was making a joke out of it.</p>
<p>“And the murder weapon wasn’t among the items scattered on the floor?” he asked.</p>
<p>“No, it wasn’t,” said Dr Wallace. “Trust me, I had a pretty thorough look. The few ice sculptures that stayed unbroken weren’t heavy enough to cause any significant damage. Definitely not enough for a fatal blow.”</p>
<p>The ice sculptures weren’t heavy enough?</p>
<p>Phoenix tapped his pencil on his journal, trying to process the information into something that made sense. If it wasn’t an ice sculpture, then what <em>could</em> have been used to bludgeon Ms Skellig?</p>
<p>“Tell me, Doctor,” said Edgeworth. “Exactly how thoroughly did you examine the scene?”</p>
<p>Now it was Edgeworth’s turn to be on the receiving end of the doctor’s annoyance.</p>
<p>“As thoroughly as I could,” he said indignantly. “I don’t like what you’re implying by saying that, Mr, um…”</p>
<p>The way he trailed off was more than enough to say that he didn’t know Edgeworth’s name.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Edgeworth said when he realised. “Edgeworth. Miles Edgeworth. Formerly the Minstrel, now just grateful to be alive. It’s just a standard question. I don’t mean any offence by it.”</p>
<p>“Well, <em>that’ll</em> be a first,” Phoenix couldn’t help but comment, prompting Edgeworth to elbow him in the arm.</p>
<p>“When I realised there had been a struggle at the scene,” said Dr Wallace, “I immediately took a look at the door and the window frames. Both were completely undamaged. Not only that, but the inside door lock still had the key sticking out of it.”</p>
<p>Phoenix paused partway through jotting that down.</p>
<p>“Is it possible to lock a door like that one while it’s open and then just close it?” he considered.</p>
<p>“Unlikely,” said the doctor. “The lock is the sort that holds the latch in place. Pretty damn rigidly at that. Trying to close it while it was locked open would just damage the frame, and like I said, there wasn’t any evidence of that.”</p>
<p>“And it wouldn’t have been possible to pick the windows open from the outside?” asked Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“Even if it was,” said Dr Wallace, “that would have left small scratches in the frames. Didn’t see any of that.”</p>
<p>“Damn,” muttered Phoenix. “Definitely going to have to warn Trucy about that.”</p>
<p>“No, Wright,” Edgeworth said firmly. “I shan’t have you advising your daughter on breaking and entering.”</p>
<p>Still Phoenix regretted nothing.</p>
<p>“So it wasn’t possible for any person to have entered or left the office during Mother’s time of death,” Michaela said as she adjusted her glasses, “is that correct?”</p>
<p>“Seems that way,” Phoenix agreed. “It’s about as classic a locked room mystery as you can get.”</p>
<p>“Then it’s obvious, isn’t it?” asked Michaela. “My mother was killed by a spirit that followed Jack Hill into the house and then attacked her! All because the Minstrel wasn’t performing his duty!”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>Phoenix slammed his hands on the table as hard as he could.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Ms Skellig,” he said, “but until we have every possible piece of information, we can’t come to any conclusions, especially one as drastic as that.”</p>
<p>“What?!” Michaela spluttered, and she turned to the judge with a cry of “Uncle Angus!”</p>
<p>The judge just shook his head.</p>
<p>“Objection sustained,” he said. “I’m sorry, Michaela, but what he says is true. We mustn’t count our coal before it’s mined.”</p>
<p>While Michaela’s face fell in defeat, Phoenix stayed completely frozen in place.</p>
<p>The palms of his hands were buzzing. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He had to actively remind himself to breathe or else he would probably have passed out from lack of oxygen.</p>
<p>Something about what he had just done felt so, unspeakably, unbelievably…</p>
<p>…<em>comfortable.</em></p>
<p>“Is something wrong, Wright?” he heard Edgeworth ask. “Don’t tell me you haven’t got a follow-up.”</p>
<p>It suddenly occurred to Phoenix that he had just frozen up.</p>
<p>“No, I do, but…” He curled his hands into fists, heart still hammering like crazy. “I think that’s the first time I’ve made a real objection since I lost my badge.”</p>
<p>He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse.</p>
<p>“It feels good,” he admitted.</p>
<p>“Well, when you’re done congratulating yourself,” said Edgeworth, “perhaps we could continue with the cross-examination?”</p>
<p>Phoenix nodded and drew himself up again.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said. “I’m on it.”</p>
<p>He took a look at the next statement he had to press, which was the last one in the testimony.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I didn’t find anything else suspicious in the rest of the house.”</em>
</p>
<p>He almost completely froze again.</p>
<p>This was it. Hiding in plain sight. This was the contradiction he had been waiting for.</p>
<p>By the time he finished this presentation of evidence, this entire trial would have been flipped on its head, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the result was the entire village of Fatargan deciding that he should be the next one to die.</p>
<p>He turned his pencil over in his fingers.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you didn’t find anything else suspicious?” he asked.</p>
<p>Dr Wallace frowned at him.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said. “I’m quite confident about that fact.”</p>
<p>“Nothing?” asked Phoenix. “Not a single thing? In the <em>entire</em> rest of the house?”</p>
<p>He could have sworn the temperature in the courtroom dropped by several degrees as suspicion and realisation crept into the witness’s mind.</p>
<p>“Why do I have a feeling you’re about to present something that I managed to overlook?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright,” said Michaela, pushing up her glasses again, “you did mention that you had conducted your own investigation. Are you about to tell us what you found?”</p>
<p>“I am,” said Phoenix, “and Ms Skellig?”</p>
<p>“What?” snapped Michaela.</p>
<p>Phoenix swallowed. This was going to hurt a <em>lot</em>.</p>
<p>“I apologise in advance,” he told her. “Really, I do. You are <em>not</em> going to like it.”</p>
<p>He laid his pencil down and turned back to his evidence list.</p>
<p>“May as well rip the band-aid off, Wright,” said Edgeworth.</p>
<p>Phoenix nodded, gripping his journal tight to keep his hands from trembling.</p>
<p>He took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” he said, “your mother had a safe in her office. What do you know about it?”</p>
<p>“Her safe?” Michaela frowned and coiled a platinum lock around her finger. “She only kept her most important things in there. Things that were far too precious to risk losing should our home be damaged.”</p>
<p>A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.</p>
<p>“Our passports,” she explained, “my birth certificate and my first painting, pictures of the town when it was still under construction-”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>At the sound of Phoenix’s voice, Michaela stared at him in slack-jawed shock.</p>
<p>“What?!” she spluttered.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” said Phoenix, “but no. This is why I wanted to apologise to you, and why I said you weren’t going to like it.”</p>
<p>He traced his fingers over his notes, and over the small list of the things he had found in that safe.</p>
<p>“I don’t doubt you were precious to your mother, Michaela,” he told her. “The passcode to open the safe was your date of birth, after all.”</p>
<p>“You broke into my mother’s safe?!” Michaela gaped in horror. “How dare you!”</p>
<p>“I didn’t find any of what you described,” Phoenix went on regardless. “What I did find was…”</p>
<p>He glanced up at the gallery. Every eye in the village was fixed on him in silent anticipation.</p>
<p>“…was evidence that Angela Skellig,” he said as confidently as he could, “was not the person that anybody in Fatargan thought she was.”</p>
<p>And with no regard for the judge’s warning at the beginning of the trial, the gallery lit up with horrified, furious gossiping. Phoenix’s fingers pressed far too hard into his journal’s cover and pages as he watched them point at him, glance at him, mutter into each other’s ears while others did the same to Michaela.</p>
<p>The judge’s gavel did nothing to dissuade the clamour.</p>
<p>“Order!” he shouted, banging over and over. “Order in the court!”</p>
<p>Phoenix gritted his teeth and waited for the cacophony to die down to conspiratorial whispering.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright,” said the judge, “please explain yourself to the court immediately!”</p>
<p>The only affirmative response Phoenix could think of was a nod.</p>
<p>“I’d like to issue another apology,” he said, keeping his voice loud and clear, “this time to the court. I made a note of everything I had found, but I left to get here in a hurry and I don’t have the items with me right now.”</p>
<p>Yes, that sounded a lot more respectable than ‘I forgot them in my friend’s bag’.</p>
<p>“However,” he continued, “I wasn’t alone in the investigation, and should my colleague come to this trial, I’m sure he’ll be diligent enough to bring them here and prove that I’m telling the truth. There are five in total and-”</p>
<p>“Out with it, Mr Wright!” Michaela slammed on the table. “Tell the court what was in that safe!”</p>
<p>The nausea was returning with reinforcements and Phoenix tried his hardest to swallow it down.</p>
<p>He took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Item number one,” he said. “A sculpting awl, most likely used in carving and detailing ice, which was drenched in dried blood up to the handle.”</p>
<p>“What?!” gasped Michaela.</p>
<p>The gossip returned full force, doubled in shock and tripled in disgust.</p>
<p>“I beg your pardon?!” the judge exclaimed, and then he was forced to slam his gavel again. “Order! Order!”</p>
<p>The faded whisper was louder and angrier than before.</p>
<p>“Continue, Mr Wright,” the judge ordered.</p>
<p>Phoenix tried to loosen his grip on his journal before he ripped it to shreds.</p>
<p>“Item number two,” he said, feeling like the world’s most morbid auctioneer. “A prescription written by Dr Bill Wallace, addressed to Mr Wrenkley Oldfart, prescribing 400mg of ibuprofen for migraine treatment.”</p>
<p>“Is this a joke?!” spluttered Dr Wallace.</p>
<p>By now the gallery’s chatter was a blur of indistinct noise, interspersed with gasps and wordless shouts of horror.</p>
<p>“Shut up!” yelled Michaela. “Mr Wright, be <em>quiet!</em> OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>“Order!” The judge slammed his gavel even harder than before. “Objection overruled! Mr Wright, please continue!”</p>
<p>Phoenix resisted the urge to hide behind Edgeworth and make him read the list instead.</p>
<p>“Item number three,” he read, “is Angela Skellig’s personal journal, and don’t worry, I didn’t read any of it. Item number four is a standard off-the-shelf set of binoculars.”</p>
<p>He hadn’t expected this to elicit as much anger or shock from the crowd as the awl had, but somehow it was a relief to know these people weren’t happy with the idea of being spied on by their elected leader.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig!” Edgeworth had to shout to make himself heard over the gallery. “Was your mother at all interested in stargazing?”</p>
<p>“N-no!” Michaela stammered. “Her only hobby was ice sculpting! But then, why would…”</p>
<p>“Item number five,” Phoenix went on as the gossip finally died down a little. “A box of prescription-order medication, addressed to Angela Skellig, labelled ‘carbamazepine’.”</p>
<p>“Carbamazepine?” he heard Dr Wallace say.</p>
<p>The poor man was almost drowned out by chatter behind him.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, what did you say?” he called to be heard over the noise. “Carbamazepine? Are you sure you don’t mean Tegretol?”</p>
<p>“Is that the same thing?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>“Order! Order!” If the judge slammed that hammer any harder, he’d destroy his lectern. “Order in the court! I WILL have ORDER!”</p>
<p>“Congratulations, Wright,” Edgeworth said as the clamour still failed to quieten. “You’ve shaken up the court even more than I managed to do.”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t have any time to feel bashful before Michaela slammed on her desk again.</p>
<p>“I demand to know the meaning of this, Mr Wright!” she shouted. “Do you really think I’m just going to stand here and listen to you slander my mother? Have you never heard of respect for the dead?!”</p>
<p>She thrust her finger in Phoenix’s direction and turned to the judge.</p>
<p>“Your Honour!” she yelled. “I demand that all of Mr Wright’s statements be stricken from the record!”</p>
<p>“I told you, didn’t I?” Phoenix called over the noise from the gallery. “I said you weren’t going to like it. I haven’t told a single lie, Ms Skellig. I’ve only reported on what I uncovered.”</p>
<p>The judge slammed his gavel yet again.</p>
<p>“If I cannot have order, I shall be forced to adjourn the court!” he proclaimed.</p>
<p>That, at long last, made the villagers in the gallery finally quiet down and stop gossiping, and Phoenix laid his journal down on his bench, propped open by his pencil.</p>
<p>“That’s better,” the judge sighed. “Mr Wright, please continue.”</p>
<p>Phoenix nodded and glanced back down at his evidence list.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” he said, relieved to not need to shout anymore, “let’s start with what’s no doubt going to end up being the <em>least</em> problematic item in your mother’s safe. Can you think of any reason why she would have a pair of binoculars kept in hiding?”</p>
<p>Michaela adjusted her glasses again.</p>
<p>“No,” she said.</p>
<p>“Excuse me?” Phoenix was confused. “Do you mean no, you don’t know, or-”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to answer that question, Mr Wright,” Michaela stated. “I am the <em>prosecutor</em> in this trial. I’m not here to testify about whatever horrific crimes you seem to think my mother might have committed!”</p>
<p>“But-”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” She slammed on her bench again. “I said no! If you want me to testify, then call me to testify, but you know as well as I do that the trial couldn’t proceed if we didn’t have a prosecutor!”</p>
<p>“And I’m working with <em>you</em> right now, Wright,” Edgeworth pointed out.</p>
<p>Yet again, the world had turned against him.</p>
<p>“So no luck,” Phoenix sighed. “Okay. But that doesn’t mean we can’t keep going with the witness we have on the stand right now, does it?”</p>
<p>“No, it doesn’t,” Dr Wallace agreed. “Very well, Mr Wright. You have my undivided attention.”</p>
<p>As if these people weren’t disgusted enough already, Phoenix had the feeling that he needed to suggest something even more terrible than everything he had already talked about.</p>
<p>This being the man who had performed two autopsies within the past week, there was only one thing he <em>could</em> ask about.</p>
<p>“Tell me, Doc,” he said, glancing at his evidence list again. “You remember Mr Oldfart’s death, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace rolled his eyes and sighed.</p>
<p>“With how much of a spectacle that trial turned into,” he said flatly, “I don’t think I’ll ever forget no matter how hard I try. And trust me, I plan to try.”</p>
<p>Phoenix took a deep breath, steeling himself for the barrage of abuse that would no doubt result from what he was about to suggest.</p>
<p>“How did you describe the fatal wound that took Mr Oldfart’s life?” he asked. “You remember, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I do,” Dr Wallace replied. “The wound was deep, but it was very narrow, and the entry wound was small and almost perfectly circular. The lack of bullet or exit wound ruled out a shooting as the cause of death, so it was clear that he had been stabbed, but the only appropriate implement I could think of that would match that injury was a knitting needle.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth tugged the journal closer to himself to get a better look.</p>
<p>“I see what’s happening now,” he said. “Doctor, do you think it’s possible that a sculpting awl could cause a wound like that?”</p>
<p>“My degree is in medicine, not fine arts,” said Dr Wallace. “I don’t know what one of these ‘awl’ things looks like.”</p>
<p>“Oh, hang on!” Phoenix snatched up his journal and pencil again. “If the court would permit me, I’d like to draw a sketch to show Dr Wallace what I’m talking about.”</p>
<p>The judge looked taken aback.</p>
<p>“Interesting,” he commented. “Does the prosecution have any objections?”</p>
<p>Michaela hugged her arms again.</p>
<p>“Many, but none that aren’t founded in selfishness,” she responded.</p>
<p>“Very well,” said the judge. “Go ahead, Mr Wright.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Phoenix found one of the few completely blank pages left in his journal. “Won’t take long.”</p>
<p>He started with the blade. Best to get the hardest part out of the way first. It was going to be a rough sketch, but hopefully it would be enough to drive his point home.</p>
<p>“If the court would be so kind,” Edgeworth spoke up while Phoenix made his way down the blade, “I’d like to point out that an artist's impression of evidence or a scene is not unheard of in a court of law. There have been several instances of an artistic creation being utilised by either prosecution or defence as a part of their arguments.”</p>
<p>Phoenix glanced up at him as he started on the awl’s handle. He had a sinking feeling about where his friend was going.</p>
<p>“I refer the court to the case of District of LA vs Sister Iris of Hazakura Temple,” Edgeworth continued, “wherein a rough sketch of the crime scene, as depicted by a witness, was used to determine that crime’s true circumstances and subsequently led to the arrest of the true culprit.”</p>
<p>There it was. Phoenix gritted his teeth and kept drawing, rounding out the end of the awl’s handle, and didn’t dare tell Edgeworth how pissed he was at the guy for bringing up that horrible incident.</p>
<p>“That’s…” Michaela said weakly. “…that’s really quite impressive.”</p>
<p>Phoenix glanced up just in time to see her adjust her glasses again.</p>
<p>“I may have to research that case once this is all over and done with,” she said.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright can back me up on that point,” Edgeworth replied as Phoenix added a bit of shading, “can’t you, Wright?”</p>
<p>“Sure can,” Phoenix replied without looking up from his drawing. “To call that sketch rough is putting it lightly, but it turned out to be pretty vital.”</p>
<p>That was enough. He was presenting a sketch, not a full artistic rendering. He’d already made the court wait long enough as it was.</p>
<p>“Okay, I’m done.” He turned his journal around to show Dr Wallace the drawing. “Dr Wallace, this is what a sculpting awl looks like.”</p>
<p>The doctor leaned in and narrowed his eyes to get a closer look.</p>
<p>“Oh, one of those?” he said. “Huh. That’s…” He leaned back, looking as though he’d like to have a pair of glasses to adjust too. “That’d be pretty much dead on.”</p>
<p>Phoenix turned his journal so that the rest of the court could get a look.</p>
<p>“Yes, if it was thin enough, that would fit the wound perfectly,” Dr Wallace told Phoenix.</p>
<p>Once he was satisfied that everyone had seen, Phoenix lowered his journal again.</p>
<p>“Nice sketch, Wright,” Edgeworth commented.</p>
<p>“My years of art college have <em>not</em> been for nothing,” Phoenix hissed before turning back to his notes. “Ms Skellig, did you ever see your mother using a tool like this?”</p>
<p>Michaela’s icy eyes were wide in shock.</p>
<p>“Y-yes, I did,” she hesitantly replied before her anger came flooding back. “Of course I did! I know she was a sculptor and I know what tools she used for it!”</p>
<p>“Dr Wallace has stated that a tool such as that,” Phoenix pointed at his journal for emphasis, “would fit perfectly with the wound that took Mr Oldfart’s life. Not only that, but the tool I found in the mayor’s safe was, as I said, covered in dried blood.”</p>
<p>He closed his journal, using the pencil as a bookmark again.</p>
<p>“I don’t think I need to connect those dots for the prosecution,” he stated.</p>
<p>Michaela’s jaw fell slack with a shuddering gasp.</p>
<p>“I…” She stared through Phoenix and into the wall behind him. “…I don’t…”</p>
<p>“Order!” The judge’s gavel was deafening in the near-total silence. “Mr Wright, what is the meaning of this? Do you mean to tell me that Angela Skellig was sheltering the murder weapon? Why would she do such a thing?”</p>
<p>“She…” Michaela adjusted her glasses again before coiling her hair tighter around her finger than ever before. “It must have been for the sake of the killer. It must have been one of her citizens. A close friend of hers. They killed Mr Oldfart in a fit of rage and then begged my mother to hold onto the weapon for them, and because Mother was so kind and held the people so close to her heart-”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>Phoenix shook her out of that train of thought with another heavy slam on the desk.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Michaela, but no,” he said firmly. “I highly doubt that was the case. Dr Wallace?”</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“What quantity of blood did you say would constitute a fatal loss?”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace ran his fingers along the edge of his bonsai’s pot again.</p>
<p>“It varies from person to person,” he explained, “but the average amount of blood in the human body measures between 4 and 6 litres, and it takes a loss of two-thirds of that quantity before there’s no coming back.”</p>
<p>“So between two-and-a-half and four litres?” Phoenix clarified.</p>
<p>“More or less,” Dr Wallace agreed.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright!” This time Michaela slammed on her bench twice. “Please explain how this is relevant! Explain to the court why you believe my mother <em>wasn’t</em> sheltering the killer and explain the REAL reason you claim she had the murder weapon in her possession!”</p>
<p>Phoenix clenched his fists on the bench’s surface.</p>
<p>To tell Michaela what she thought she wanted to know would destroy her. She was already grief-stricken and horrified by the implications of what Phoenix had explained was in her mother’s safe – a mother who it seemed had lied to her for quite a long time – but if he told her the truth, he ran the risk of breaking her entirely.</p>
<p>But if he didn’t, and instead went back to just arguing for Edgeworth’s innocence, there was no way he was going to win this trial. Everybody in this village was fully convinced of their resident ghosts’ murderous capabilities and as an outsider, he wasn’t ever going to convince them otherwise.</p>
<p>And he couldn’t just stand here thinking either or else he’d just be written off.</p>
<p>There was nothing for it.</p>
<p>He <em>had</em> to tell Michaela the truth.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth?” he said.</p>
<p>“Yes?” asked Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“Pray for me.”</p>
<p>“Way ahead of you.”</p>
<p>Phoenix took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig…”</p>
<p>No, it would be better to address her as an equal, not just an opponent.</p>
<p>“Michaela,” he said, “when I investigated the scene, Dr Wallace left me the forensic tools he’d been given. That is to say, I used fingerprinting powder and luminol testing fluid, which I’m sure you know reacts to blood.”</p>
<p>He drew himself up to the fullest of his height. Confidence. He had to look like he had at least some modicum of <em>confidence</em>.</p>
<p>“I experimentally sprayed on the floor in your house’s hallway,” he explained, “and I got a reaction.”</p>
<p>Michaela’s entire body went stiff, except for her hands, still on the table, trembling on its surface.</p>
<p>“…what?” she said faintly.</p>
<p>No turning back now.</p>
<p>“When I did,” said Phoenix, “I wanted to see how much I could get, and I sprayed all over the floor. I found evidence of spilled blood that covered at least…” He thought back to the blue glow he’d seen in that cold house. “I’d say about 85-90% of the floor. Dr Wallace, could two-to-four litres of blood cover that much area?”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace took a moment to think, still cuddling his bonsai to his chest.</p>
<p>“It could if the person losing that blood was spraying it out at a high pressure,” he replied, “say, from a wound to the neck.”</p>
<p>Phoenix unfurled his hands from fists before he could hurt himself.</p>
<p>“Your Honour,” he said, “I’d like the court to pay attention to this, as this has resolved the mystery of two days ago.”</p>
<p>He held himself back from slamming the desk. Doing that now would just be inappropriate.</p>
<p>“We now have conclusive proof,” he said instead, “that Professor Hershel Layton was NOT the culprit who killed Wrenkley Oldfart!”</p>
<p>“Objection!” Michaela shouted, although her voice was strained and painful. “Did you forget that you’d already lost that trial, Mr Wright? We’re here today to determine whether or not the Minstrel, Miles Edgeworth, is to be held accountable for my mother's death! My mother is the <em>victim</em> in this trial, not the <em>culprit!</em>”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Phoenix didn’t hold back from slamming the desk. “Dr Wallace claimed to have not found anything else at the crime scene that he'd considered suspicious! All I'm doing here is presenting the things I found that even <em>you</em> couldn't deny are suspicious! If you have anything to refute my claim, I'd very much like to hear it!</p>
<p>Michaela froze again. She wasn’t even hugging her arms anymore.</p>
<p>“…n…” she said weakly. “…no.”</p>
<p>“And what are you saying no to this time?” asked Edgeworth.</p>
<p>Michaela balanced herself on the table, her head hung in defeat.</p>
<p>“I…” Her breathing came in shallow, desperate gasps. “I don’t have anything, I…”</p>
<p>She pulled her glasses off and set them beside her mother’s autopsy report.</p>
<p>“I can’t think of anything that refutes your claims,” she choked. “I don’t have any evidence to present that contradicts it, I…”</p>
<p>The tears she blinked out of her eyes trickled down her nose and dripped onto the table.</p>
<p>“Oh Mother, what did you <em>do?!</em>”</p>
<p>She slapped her hands over her face, and Phoenix didn’t dare move as her body shuddered with sobs and hiccups.</p>
<p>The courtroom was utterly silent. Her crying was the only sound in the entire building.</p>
<p>Not a single person in the room had the courage to approach her and try to offer comfort.</p>
<p>All Phoenix could do was watch. Just stand there and look as his legal opponent, who up until today he had thought of as either a sinister schemer or an ignorant airhead, cried in the knowledge that she had no choice but to grieve a murderer.</p>
<p>He knew he should be satisfied or relieved that he had finally gotten through to her, but he was here to prove his friend’s innocence, not to bully an orphan into accepting some horrible truth.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Michaela,” he said to her. “I think you needed to know more than anyone else, but I didn’t want it to be this painful.”</p>
<p>“Wright, the woman’s just learned the mother she’s grieving was a murderer,” Edgeworth reminded him. “I fail to see how learning that fact could be anything <em>but</em> painful.”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s heart ached with an even more agonising guilt.</p>
<p>“I know,” he replied.</p>
<p>Part of him wanted to cross the room and offer the poor woman some comfort, but he got the distinct feeling that he was the last person she would even want to be sharing a hemisphere with, let alone a room.</p>
<p>All he could do was stand there and watch her cry, waiting for her to tire herself out and stop.</p>
<p>When the judge slammed his gavel again, it was as sudden and piercing as a gunshot.</p>
<p>“Allow me to present my thoughts on the matter,” he said solemnly. “The court still has no idea whether Miles Edgeworth should be considered responsible for Angela's death. It's true that the Minstrel failed to perform his duty for the entirety of the night, and thus it makes sense that an untamed spirit may have entered the Mayor's home and slew her in her office, leaving no trace of its presence behind.”</p>
<p>He looked between the waiting defence and weeping prosecution.</p>
<p>“However,” he went on, “we have just learned of an entirely new side of the victim's life. One that no other person in this village was privy to.”</p>
<p>His gaze lingered on Michaela’s sobbing form.</p>
<p>“…not even her own daughter,” he stated, and then he looked back up at the rest of the court. “If Angela was a murderer, then that opens up an entirely new avenue. We must ask ourselves who else in Fatargan became aware of her activities, and whether or not this was their motive for taking her life.”</p>
<p>He slammed his gavel again.</p>
<p>“Therefore this trial shall continue as it is currently proceeding,” he declared. “Is that understood?”</p>
<p>Phoenix responded with a nod.</p>
<p>“Perfectly, Your Honour,” he said.</p>
<p>“Thank you for allowing us this opportunity to continue our case,” added Edgeworth.</p>
<p>Michaela took a deep breath and finally lowered her hands. Her face was flushed a brilliant shade of red and her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. She pulled another tissue out of her pocket and wiped over her cheeks and nose.</p>
<p>“Michaela?” the judge said gently. “Will you be alright?”</p>
<p>She didn’t reply. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes and tried to breathe more steadily again.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig?”</p>
<p>She gasped, caught off guard, and realised the person who had spoken was the man still positioned at the witness stand.</p>
<p>“…yes?” she said shakily.</p>
<p>Dr Wallace rested his bonsai on the table and ran his hand over its branches.</p>
<p>“It won’t get easier,” he told her, “but you’ll adjust in the end. Now take a deep breath.”</p>
<p>Michaela obediently inhaled, long and deep, and released it as a heavy sigh. She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand before sliding her glasses back onto her face.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she breathed. “I can keep going. Thank you, Doctor.”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace didn’t reply. He simply stood in place, his fingers rested on the edge of his bonsai’s pot.</p>
<p>Phoenix, meanwhile, could only watch and wait as Michaela picked up the fragments of her shattered composure and Dr Wallace stayed silent.</p>
<p>“I have a feeling this man has experience with something we’ll never understand,” he whispered to Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“He’s right though,” Edgeworth replied. “Grief isn’t something that ever gets less painful. You just get used to the pain after a while.”</p>
<p>That memory flashed through Phoenix’s mind again. The memory of walking into his office, greeted by an open door and the smell of blood, and wishing that he could have been there sooner, only a few minutes sooner and <em>surely</em>…</p>
<p>He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and pinched his brow, trying to force those images back into the depths of his mind.</p>
<p>Time to get back on track. They had unfinished business.</p>
<p>“Dr Wallace?” he said.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” the doctor replied.</p>
<p>“You recognised the medication I mentioned,” Phoenix pointed out. “Do you know what carbamazepine is?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I do,” Dr Wallace replied while Phoenix congratulated himself for being able to pronounce that word offhand. “It’s more commonly known as Tegretol. It’s an anticonvulsant medication with two primary uses, those being in the treatment of a) neuropathic pain and b) epilepsy.”</p>
<p>The word slammed into Phoenix like a droplet of ice water down the back of his neck.</p>
<p>“Epilepsy…” Edgeworth echoed thoughtfully.</p>
<p>Phoenix pulled out the photos again and gave them another look over. The way Angela was positioned on the floor, how her wrist must have fallen for her watch to have broken, the mess from the mantlepiece, every way into the office being locked from her side and showing no sign of tampering…</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig!” He didn’t care if he sounded too desperate. “Can you confirm this? Was your mother epileptic?”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Michaela seemed taken aback. “I- yes, she was, but her seizures weren’t very frequent, so she didn’t take her medication very much. She could go <em>years</em> between seizures and-”</p>
<p>“That’s it!” It was difficult not to grin in triumph. “I’ve got it!”</p>
<p>“You have?” asked Michaela.</p>
<p>“This had better not be another bluff!” snapped Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“It isn’t, Edgeworth,” Phoenix replied.</p>
<p>The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. This had been the missing piece of the puzzle that everybody in the court had been so desperate to get their hands on.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” he said, “Your Honour, citizens of Fatargan…”</p>
<p>He stepped out from behind the bench and walked into the open space in the middle of the courtroom, making sure that every eye in the room was focused squarely on his exhausted, unshaved face.</p>
<p>“…this is what I believe happened to your mayor,” he stated.</p>
<p>Good. All of them were paying attention.</p>
<p>“I believe that for Ms Skellig,” he began, “save for the fiasco from earlier in the day, that night was just like any other night. She was in her office, doing her work, filing papers…”</p>
<p>He gestured with his hands to drive his points home.</p>
<p>“She got hungry, but she was busy,” he reminded the court, “so she decided to order dinner from the King’s Arms, and she stayed awake long enough to meet Ms Hill upon delivery and ask her to reheat her order in the kitchen.”</p>
<p>He saw Jack seated near the back of the gallery, beside the tall man who was apparently this town’s librarian, but she avoided his line of sight, either out of fear or just plain old discomfort at the notion of eye contact.</p>
<p>“However,” Phoenix went on, “not long after that – and likely while she was standing in front of her mantlepiece, perhaps admiring her or her daughter’s artistic creations – Angela suffered a seizure.”</p>
<p>He looked over at Michaela to check how she was handling this.</p>
<p>“…and her office was locked from the inside…” she said softly.</p>
<p>“Exactly,” said Phoenix. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she felt it coming, and she struggled to stave it off, knocking things off her mantle and making a mess in the process, but it wasn’t long before she couldn’t keep her consciousness and she collapsed.”</p>
<p>A faint gasp of shock rippled through the gallery.</p>
<p>“By a stroke of terrible luck,” he continued, “she fell in such a way that her head landed on one of her sculptures with <em>catastrophic</em> force-” He slammed one hand into the other to emphasise his point. “-and by the time Ms Hill left the premises, Angela Skellig was dead.”</p>
<p>“My word!” muttered the judge.</p>
<p>“The sculpture trapped under her body subsequently melted under the heat of her body,” Phoenix explained, “diluting the blood that pooled from her head and completing the scene that her daughter discovered the following morning.”</p>
<p>He decided to finish his explanation by returning to his place behind the desk.</p>
<p>“If the prosecution has anything to add,” he said as he walked, “I’d be very interested in hearing it.”</p>
<p>He tried not to smile to himself as he took position back up beside Edgeworth, who gave him a funny look, but didn’t have any comments to make about the explanation.</p>
<p>It was the only theory that could possibly make sense. Nobody had killed Angela, least of all a ghost. Nobody had even picked anything up to hit her with. Now that he knew she’d had epilepsy, everything had fallen perfectly into place.</p>
<p>A few seconds of silence passed before Michaela cleared her throat.</p>
<p>“So let me see if I understand your theory, Mr Wright,” she said. “You believe that my mother had a seizure, and that seizure caused her to knock things off her mantlepiece, including one of her sculptures that she hit her head on when she fell, and that's what led to her death.”</p>
<p>She pressed her glasses up her nose.</p>
<p>“That’s what you’re stating isn’t it?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Phoenix replied. “Do you have any evidence that could refute it?”</p>
<p>Michaela flipped the folder open and snatched up one of Dr Wallace’s photos. She held it aloft; it was the photo of her mother’s limp wrist.</p>
<p>“As you can see, Mother’s-” She caught herself and shook her head. “The victim’s watch broke when she fell. However, you may also be able to see that the watch itself is not in direct contact with the floor. How could you explain this?”</p>
<p>Phoenix opened his mouth to reply, but Edgeworth slammed on the desk before he had a chance.</p>
<p>“It’s a lot simpler than you may think,” he said solidly. “Seizures bring convulsions, Ms Skellig. Perhaps a single hit on the floor wouldn't have been enough to damage the watch, but multiple hits against the tiles would almost certainly damage it, don't you agree?”</p>
<p>“I…” Michaela sniffed and adjusted her glasses again. “And like you said, Mr Wright, this explains the diluted bloodstain, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it would,” Phoenix replied.</p>
<p>“Put simply,” said Edgeworth, “Ms Skellig’s death was not a murder. Nor was it a suicide. And nor was there any spiritual intervention whatsoever.”</p>
<p>He relaxed his hand away from the table.</p>
<p>“What we have here is nothing more than a tragic accident,” he stated. “One that could have happened at any time, had your mother experienced any equal measure of misfortune.”</p>
<p>Michaela took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“And that’s why her office showed no signs of entry,” she realised. “There wasn’t ever anyone else in there.”</p>
<p>“Precisely,” Edgeworth replied.</p>
<p>“I'm sorry, Michaela,” Phoenix told her. “I know this probably wasn't the conclusion you wanted, and it definitely wasn't the one you expected, but it's the only one right now that makes any sense.”</p>
<p>“It's much easier to make sense of something terrible if you have a clear and obvious thing or person to pin the blame on,” said Edgeworth, “but Ms Skellig, there is <em>nobody</em> to blame for your mother's death.”</p>
<p>And again, the courtroom was reigned by silence.</p>
<p>Not a single person in the gallery so much as coughed. Even Dr Wallace was perfectly motionless, still gently holding onto his bonsai pot.</p>
<p>Michaela hugged her arms and stared emptily at the floor in front of her table.</p>
<p>It felt like forever before the judge cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“Does the prosecution have anything to add?” he asked.</p>
<p>The silence was crushing. Phoenix didn’t dare to breathe for fear of disturbing it.</p>
<p>“…yes.”</p>
<p>And just like that, the peace was shattered.</p>
<p>“Huh?” It wasn’t the most dignified response, but it was all he could think of.</p>
<p>“Of course the prosecution has something to add.” Michaela slammed both hands on her desk and grimaced at the defence in fury. “You aren’t getting out of this that easily, Minstrel!”</p>
<p>“I’m not trying to ‘get out of’ anything!” Edgeworth replied. “All I want is to expose the truth and prove my innocence!”</p>
<p>Michaela’s fingers twitched on the tabletop.</p>
<p>“Maybe you two are right,” she said. “Maybe my mother’s death <em>was</em> caused by a seizure and maybe her epilepsy was to blame.”</p>
<p>She straightened up again, now just as furious as she had been at the start of the trial.</p>
<p>“But can either of you prove what triggered that fatal seizure?” she asked.</p>
<p>“What?!” Phoenix almost staggered in shock. “Epileptic seizures don’t need any cause, do they?”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid that’s not the case, Mr Wright,” Dr Wallace spoke up. “There are many things that could trigger an epileptic seizure, such as stress, a lack of sleep, prior sickness such as a basic viral or bacterial infection, alcohol consumption, low blood sugar, hormonal changes-”</p>
<p>“What about a haunting, Dr Wallace?” Michaela interjected.</p>
<p>The doctor stared at her in bafflement.</p>
<p>“A what?!” he spluttered.</p>
<p>“If my mother were to have witnessed an angry spirit in her home...” Michaela’s ferocity faltered. “…perhaps of a person she had killed herself…” And just like that, it was back. “…but one that should nonetheless have been soothed by the Minstrel's music, is it possible that could have triggered a seizure? Could she have had a fit if she saw a ghost?”</p>
<p>Phoenix could feel his hand twitching. He almost wanted to clench his fist as though doing so would catch his case and keep it from fluttering away into the aether. Even Edgeworth seemed stunned by this new objection; the poor man looked as though he could punch something at any moment.</p>
<p>Dr Wallace gave his pot another thoughtful rub along the rim.</p>
<p>“I’m not exactly an expert on the supernatural,” he said, “but depending on what that ghost did, I suppose it could be possible.”</p>
<p>“WHAT?!” screamed Phoenix.</p>
<p>“<em>Ngoooooh!</em>” groaned Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“Well?” Michaela asked simply. “Does the defence have anything to add?”</p>
<p>Phoenix could barely breathe. One more minute of this and he was going to faint, or worse, have another panic attack.</p>
<p>“I had believed an angry spirit was the cause of my mother's death,” Michaela stated, “and you both have theorised it to have been a seizure, but isn't it possible that the two could have been combined?”</p>
<p>“Wright, do something!” Edgeworth whispered to Phoenix.</p>
<p>“What?” Phoenix whispered back. “What do you want me to do? She has a point and I don’t have any evidence that could refute it!”</p>
<p>“Tell the woman she’s mad!” snapped Edgeworth. “Tell her there are no bloody spirits in this village!”</p>
<p>“I can’t!” Phoenix hissed. “That would be contempt of court! I’ll bluff, but I am <em>not</em> going to lie!”</p>
<p>“Oh, for <em>heaven’s</em> sake…” Edgeworth rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig!” Phoenix said louder than he had intended. “Can you provide any direct evidence that a spirit may have been the cause of your mother’s fit?”</p>
<p>“Can you provide any direct evidence to the contrary?” asked Michaela.</p>
<p>Again, Phoenix couldn’t think of anything to say.</p>
<p>“…you can’t…” was all he could manage.</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” shouted Edgeworth. “You can’t just ask someone to prove a negative, Ms Skellig!”</p>
<p>“I hold that the Minstrel’s negligence is responsible for the death of Mayor Angela Skellig,” Michaela proclaimed, “and hereby demand the harshest punishment the court can hand down!”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t be so hasty if I were you.”</p>
<p>All eyes in the room turned to the door. Another gasp of shock rippled through the gallery, accompanied by quiet gossip and murmurs of amazement.</p>
<p>The man who had just entered simply smiled, standing in place, and straightened his top hat by the brim.</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such incredible relief.</p>
<p>“Hershel…” he sighed.</p>
<p>“Nice of you to join us at last, Professor,” added Edgeworth.</p>
<p>Layton kept smiling as he walked towards the witness stand.</p>
<p>“I-it’s <em>you!</em>” the judge stammered.</p>
<p>“What- but-” Even Michaela was almost lost for words. “How DARE you show your face here after what you did!”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace stepped aside as Layton reached the witness stand. His black coat was coated in a layer of brownish-grey dust and the ends of his sleeves were damp – and he had a strange black smudge on one of his cheeks – but aside from that, he appeared to be completely unharmed.</p>
<p>“All I ‘did’, Ms Skellig,” he said calmly, “was abstain from a wrongful conviction.”</p>
<p>His smile slipped away as he looked over at her, somehow drumming up the courage to make total eye contact.</p>
<p>“I should think I’m entitled to a fair and balanced judgement,” he told her, “wouldn’t you?”</p>
<p>Michaela’s jaw fell slack.</p>
<p>Only a couple of short sentences and she was <em>speechless</em>.</p>
<p>“Professor, is Trucy okay?” Phoenix demanded. “Where is she?”</p>
<p>“Right here!”</p>
<p>“GYAH!” Edgeworth jumped back in shock at the sight of the two youths who had just apparated to the defence bench.</p>
<p>“Hi, Mr Wright.” Luke bashfully adjusted his cap, ignoring how he was just as filthy as the Professor. “I’m sorry we took so long. The tunnel caved in and we had to find another way back through the mountain.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Daddy!” Trucy piped up. “I’m totally okay!”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t believe that for a moment.</p>
<p>“What happened to your hat?” he demanded. “Why are you wearing Mr Hat’s cape?!”</p>
<p>“I can tell you later, okay?” Trucy replied. “Right now, we need to save Uncle Miles!”</p>
<p>“I say! Officers!” shouted the judge. “Restrain this man immediately!”</p>
<p>“HOLD IT!”</p>
<p>Michaela’s voice cut through the buzz like a lightsaber and silenced it just as effectively.</p>
<p>She glared at Layton more furiously than Phoenix even thought could be possible.</p>
<p>“If Professor Layton thinks he can prove the truth about what happened to my mother,” she said, “then I’d be <em>delighted</em> to hear it. Dr Wallace, if you have nothing further to add, you’re welcome to step down.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Ms Skellig.” Dr Wallace snatched up his bonsai and bag and darted away from the witness stand.</p>
<p>Layton simply adjusted his hat again.</p>
<p>“I would be delighted as well, Ms Skellig,” he said. “However, my findings are not limited to the unfortunate fate that befell your mother. Rather they extend far beyond her person and into the past, to the very foundation of this village and its faith. If the court would allow me, I’d like to share with you all…”</p>
<p>His smile grew wider in undisguised excitement.</p>
<p>“…the truth about the Painted King and his horde.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. The Fall of the House of Skellig part 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the silence that had overtaken the courtroom, the slam of Trucy setting down the chair that was meant to be used by the defendant was the loudest thing Phoenix had ever heard in his life, and he kept his eyes fixed on the witness stand as he reached up to pat her on the head.</p>
<p>The judge, meanwhile, sighed in frustration.</p>
<p>“I can’t say I’m completely supportive of this,” he told the court. “On one hand, I must admit I’m very interested to know about the history of Fatargan and our faith, but on the other…”</p>
<p>He joined the rest of his court in eyeing the Professor with paralysing fury.</p>
<p>“Professor Layton,” said the judge, “you are the <em>last</em> person I would turn to for that kind of information! Where in the world have you been these past few days?!”</p>
<p>Layton looked up with one hand on his hat, coyly smiling at the judge from under the brim.</p>
<p>“Do you really wish to know?” he asked. “Do you really wish to know the things I’ve been forced to do in order to stay alive during the past day or two? Or would you be more comfortable going to your grave without that particular gem of knowledge?”</p>
<p>Phoenix bit his tongue to keep himself from bursting out laughing.</p>
<p>“…well…” the judge said nervously.</p>
<p>“He’s bluffing, Uncle Angus,” Michaela said calmly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been hiding away in that little rental cottage this entire time, ducking into the bathroom whenever anyone came to visit.”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Trucy stomped on the table with all her might. “Ms Skellig, look at our clothes! Look at me wearing my spare cape!” She tossed the fabric aside to show off the patches of dust all over her dress. “Do we look like we’ve been all cushy in a house by a fireplace?”</p>
<p>Michaela adjusted her glasses at the girl.</p>
<p>“Admittedly, you don’t,” she said. “But then again, neither does your young friend, and he isn’t even a wanted man. Care to explain what the three of you have been doing?”</p>
<p>Trucy gently withdrew her foot from the bench.</p>
<p>“U-um…” She glanced sideways at Luke.</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Luke took that as his cue to slam on the table. “The defence doesn’t care for the prosecution’s irrelevant speculation! We’re here to listen to the Professor right now, and in the long term, to determine the guilt or innocence of Miles Edgeworth!”</p>
<p>He pointed at Michaela for emphasis.</p>
<p>“As it is believed that he unwittingly allowed a spirit to enter the Skellig residence,” he went on, “Professor Layton’s testimony about those spirits is vitally important to the case at hand!”</p>
<p>Edgeworth stared at the boy in alarm.</p>
<p>“Good grief, Wright!” he spat. “What on earth have you been doing with these children?”</p>
<p>“I’m not a child!” Luke flushed angrily. “I’m fifteen!”</p>
<p>“Fifteen?!” Edgeworth stared even harder. “I could’ve sworn you were <em>twelve!</em>”</p>
<p>“I have to say that in this case,” Michaela interrupted before Luke could get even angrier, “I agree with the judge. While I believe it’s likely that this information could turn out to be crucial to understanding this case, I don’t want to hear it from the mouth of a man who has proven willing to display blatant disregard not only for the law, but also for our people!”</p>
<p>“OBJE-”</p>
<p>“Watch yourself, young man.” Edgeworth pressed Luke back from the desk. “The last thing a lawyer should look is eager.”</p>
<p>“What? No!” Luke whined in disappointment.</p>
<p>“I agree,” said Phoenix, although he pushed Edgeworth’s hand back down. “Luke, I know you want to defend the Professor, but it isn’t a good look to jump in too quickly.”</p>
<p>“He’s right, Luke,” said Trucy. “A lawyer needs to know the right time to strike. You need to build the audience's anticipation first!”</p>
<p>“Take it easy, Truce,” Phoenix warned. “You can’t compare <em>every</em> part of lawyering to stage magic.”</p>
<p>He turned back to the prosecution while his co-counsels tried to settle down.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” he said, “I understand your position. I hate to say it, but your distrust of Hershel is pretty understandable after what happened a couple of days ago.”</p>
<p>He wanted to say more, but painful memories of that awful trial and the catastrophic way it ended left him cut short.</p>
<p>“But if your belief is really that your mother was killed by a wayward spirit,” Edgeworth spoke up for him, “you must agree that it makes sense to listen to whatever information about those spirits can be provided, even if it’s from a man you seem to have mistakenly branded a murderer.”</p>
<p>Michaela stared at him, scowling in fury, looking like she wanted to explode from just that sentence alone. She took a deep breath and adjusted her glasses again.</p>
<p>“Uncle Angus?” She turned to the judge. “What do you think?”</p>
<p>‘Uncle Angus’ sighed and frowned, looking almost as exhausted as Phoenix had felt all week.</p>
<p>“I believe we may be thinking along the same lines, Michaela,” he replied. “While I cannot help distrusting the Professor, it’s very possible that what he tells us could fill in some of the remaining blanks in this case.”</p>
<p>He looked out at the rest of the courtroom.</p>
<p>“Was the Minstrel’s negligence for a mere few hours enough to enrage a spirit to the point of murder?” he asked. “If not, then was Ms Skellig’s seizure triggered by a haunting?”</p>
<p>He turned his gaze down to the witness on the stand.</p>
<p>“Mr Layton,” he said, “are these questions you would be able to answer?”</p>
<p>Layton’s smile didn’t falter.</p>
<p>“I believe so, Your Honour,” he replied. “Ms Skellig?”</p>
<p>“What?” Michaela snapped.</p>
<p><em>Now</em> the smile fell away. Layton released his hat as he turned to face the prosecutor.</p>
<p>“You have my heartfelt condolences,” he told her. “I perfectly understand the pain you must be in, and while I know my opinion isn’t something you would want, I believe it must have taken a great deal of strength for you to stand in this courtroom so soon after your mother’s passing.”</p>
<p>Michaela blinked at him in shock. She hugged her arms and frowned, looking away from the witness stand, as if she had no idea what she was supposed to do with herself.</p>
<p>“…I…” she said nervously. “…um… thank you.”</p>
<p>She cleared her throat.</p>
<p>“Very well then, witness,” she said. “Please state your name and profession for the court.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” said Layton. “My name is Professor Hershel Layton. I am an archaeologist and a gentleman, and a lecturer currently under the employ of Gressenheller University.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Michaela said bluntly. “That’s done. Let’s hear what you have to say.”</p>
<p>The Professor gave her a polite nod.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he replied.</p>
<p>He looked up at the court, and Phoenix snatched up his journal and pencil and got ready to write. Hopefully the Professor could remember to keep things short, simple and sweet, and save Phoenix from suffering the embarrassment of writing in total silence.</p>
<p>Layton adjusted his hat again.</p>
<p>“The Painted King was the leader of a tribe of Picts that inhabited these mountains centuries ago,” he told the court. “They were successful in invading and conquering other tribes and became the dominant people of this region. However, at one point, an incident occurred that caused their tribe to go completely extinct. They have supposedly haunted this village ever since.”</p>
<p>He smiled at the court again.</p>
<p>“You see?” he said. “There is nothing supernatural about the Painted King or his so-called horde.”</p>
<p>Phoenix decided that was probably another part of his testimony and included it in the notes he frantically scrabbled out.</p>
<p>But when he finished, he realised that the courtroom was still completely silent.</p>
<p>Michaela stood in place, hugging her arms and glaring at the witness stand. The judge’s eyes were softer, but his frown was just as deep and perhaps even angrier.</p>
<p>Weren’t they supposed to say something? To make some kind of comment about the most recent testimony?</p>
<p>“…um…” Phoenix said nervously.</p>
<p>When sound finally returned to the room, it came from by his side.</p>
<p>“Finally, some basic logic!” Edgeworth sighed. “Thank you, Professor, for speaking some sanity!”</p>
<p>Phoenix wondered if he should speak up. One skeptic of the supernatural was one thing, but having two who were in total agreement was going to be a bit of a problem.</p>
<p>“…hmm…” He reached into his pocket and hooked one finger into his magatama.</p>
<p>Not that he wanted to check anybody in the court for Psyche-Locks. If he didn’t do something for his own comfort, he was going to drive himself insane.</p>
<p>“Oh, come <em>on</em>, Wright,” Edgeworth complained with a roll of his eyes. “Are you really going to continue telling me this place is haunted?”</p>
<p>“Uncle Miles, I know it’s weird,” Trucy piped up, “but it’s the only explanation for all the strange things we’ve seen since we got here!”</p>
<p>“Not necessarily,” said Luke. “If I know the Professor, I know he’s already figured out a non-supernatural explanation for all the weirdness in this village. Once he tells us the details, everything’s going to make sense.”</p>
<p>Phoenix ran his fingers over his magatama’s polished surface.</p>
<p>“I sure hope so,” he said softly, “but I can’t help doubting it.”</p>
<p>He looked up at Michaela, who was still glaring at Layton as though she was hoping to kill him with her gaze.</p>
<p>And then, finally, she opened her mouth:</p>
<p>“I don’t know if I’ve ever been so insulted in all my life.”</p>
<p>The statement was like a harsh slap to the face.</p>
<p>“I agree,” said the judge. “Mr Wright, please proceed with your cross-examination so that I’ll know whether I would be justified in leaving this position to punch the witness in the face.”</p>
<p>A chill ran down Phoenix’s spine, and he looked over at the gallery to see how <em>they</em> were reacting to this testimony. As it turned out, they had joined in on the slaughter-Layton-with-our-eyes party; every single one of them, including Jack Hill, was glaring daggers at the man. Phoenix saw at least one man be pushed back down into his seat by the woman next to him, who shook her head and tutted at him as if to say that Layton wasn’t worth it, and others sat in place with teeth and fists clenched uncomfortably tight.</p>
<p>“Wow,” muttered Edgeworth. “He really <em>did</em> touch a nerve.”</p>
<p>“That’s the problem with the truth,” said Luke. “Sometimes it’s very painful to listen to.”</p>
<p>“Daddy, you’d better start quick!” Trucy tugged on Phoenix’s arm. “Everybody in the gallery is super mad right now!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, okay, I got it,” Phoenix replied as he found his next blank page. “I can’t blame them though. He just basically told all these people their god’s been a lie this entire time.”</p>
<p>He took a deep breath as soon as he came across a page with enough space. He had a feeling that this was going to be the longest cross-examination of his entire career, and he didn’t even have this career anymore!</p>
<p>Okay. Time to stop putting it off and get to work.</p>
<p>It would be easiest to start right at the beginning. Just treat this as any other cross-examination and don’t pay attention to the entire village of people who were out for the Professor’s blood.</p>
<p>“The Picts were the native people of Scotland, right?” he asked.</p>
<p>Layton gave him a happy little smile.</p>
<p>“That’s correct,” he replied. “Their civilisation reached its height in the 10<sup>th</sup> century, but the circumstances of their extinction have never been fully determined. I would speculate that they simply became the dominant society in the region, although why they stopped using their name, I can’t say.”</p>
<p>As Phoenix made note of this information, he suddenly felt as though he was right back at school again. Desperately taking notes while the teacher moved way too fast for him to keep up, no heating in the room while the ground outside was covered in snow, everybody in the room simmering with barely disguised hatred…</p>
<p>“Isn’t it likely,” Edgeworth said, “that the term was just a designation from an outside society, such as the Celts or Romans?”</p>
<p>The Professor cupped his chin in thought.</p>
<p>“Given the time period,” he said, “that certainly seems possible.”</p>
<p>“So that’s what the Painted King was?” asked Phoenix. “He wasn’t a god? Just a <em>chieftain?</em>”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” screamed Michaela. “I will not put up with such blatant blasphemy in the courtroom!”</p>
<p>Layton calmly lowered his hand from his jaw.</p>
<p>“I’m not intentionally blaspheming, Ms Skellig,” he told her. “I’m simply making conclusions based on what I discovered today and on my prior knowledge of the ancient citizens that inhabited the British Isles in the early years of the previous millennium.”</p>
<p>Michaela outright <em>snarled</em> at him, and Phoenix worried that she might vault over her bench to attack the Professor.</p>
<p>“It explains why he’s called the Painted King too!” said Luke. “Right, Professor?”</p>
<p>“Yes, it absolutely does,” said Layton, and he looked around the room at the furious village. “Can any person native to Fatargan offer any ideas for why the Painted King may have been dubbed as such?”</p>
<p>The gallery was silent.</p>
<p>Numerous citizens lowered their faces in shame and stared at the floor, while others stared up at the ceiling in thought. One or two of them leaned to one side to whisper to each other. Another opened his mouth to reply, but quickly shrank back again.</p>
<p>Still waiting, Layton turned to look at Michaela.</p>
<p>But even <em>she</em> stepped back with a frown.</p>
<p>“…um…” was all she said.</p>
<p>“Good lord!” cried the judge. “Don’t tell me that none of you actually know!”</p>
<p>“Do you, Your Honour?” Layton asked expectantly. “Surely a man of your wisdom and experience would be able to explain it to your people.”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course!” the judge replied angrily. “The Painted King is called the Painted King because…”</p>
<p>And now <em>he</em> was frowning.</p>
<p>“Well,” he said, “naturally it’s due to His… um…”</p>
<p>He stared down at his empty lectern.</p>
<p>“…hmm…”</p>
<p>In spite of the treatment he’d been shown ever since he arrived in this village, Phoenix almost felt sorry for these poor, clueless people.</p>
<p>“There’s no shame in not knowing, Your Honour,” Layton told him. “A good gentleman is always happy to share his knowledge with those in the dark.”</p>
<p>“Fine then, Professor,” Michaela said before the judge could even take a breath. “If you’re so much more amazingly intelligent than the rest of us, how about teaching the class a quick lesson?”</p>
<p>Layton just smiled again, and Phoenix’s heart twinged with envy. If only <em>he</em> could feel so confident when pretty much the entire world had turned against him.</p>
<p>“It’s quite simple,” Layton stated. “It was war paint.”</p>
<p>He looked around the courtroom again.</p>
<p>“Not that I’m happy to be bringing it up a second time in the space of one day,” he said, “but who in this hall has seen the film Braveheart?”</p>
<p>He pressed his hands into his coat pockets and waited as nervous glances were exchanged all throughout the gallery.</p>
<p>A few uncertain audience members slowly raised their hands, causing Phoenix to feel even <em>more</em> like he’d been transported back to school. He hadn’t seen the film and didn’t have any plans to, but he felt the urge to put up his hand just so that <em>somebody</em> could respond to the teacher’s question and break this awkward silence.</p>
<p>“Don’t be afraid,” said Layton. “I won’t hold it against you. Do you recall the blue war paint used by the leader and his soldiers?”</p>
<p>Those few gallery viewers who had raised their hands responded with a hesitant nod.</p>
<p>“That was a dye known as woad,” Layton explained. “It was extremely popular with the people of the era, who would use it to decorate their bare skin.”</p>
<p>He turned back around to face the judge.</p>
<p>“It only seems natural that their chieftain would bear the most out of all the tribe,” he said, “doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s pencil was the only sound in the courtroom and he hadn’t even moved on to the second statement yet. If this got any worse, he was going to have to ask for a hall pass and hide in the bathroom until the lesson could move forward again.</p>
<p>“So that’s why he’s known as the Painted King?” asked Michaela. “Because he literally had a body covered in war paint?”</p>
<p>“It would appear so, Ms Skellig,” Layton replied.</p>
<p>“Hey, Hershel?” Phoenix <em>had</em> to lighten the mood before somebody threw an eraser at the Professor’s hat. “Judging by how you talked about that movie, I’m guessing that war paint is one of the only things they actually got right.”</p>
<p>“You guess correctly, Phoenix.” Layton crossed his arms with a disappointed frown. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Terrible movie. Zero out of ten.”</p>
<p>“Well, <em>someone’s</em> bitter,” Edgeworth commented, and Phoenix pressed the back of his hand to his mouth so that nobody could hear him sniggering.</p>
<p>“He’s an archaeologist,” Luke pointed out. “What did you expect?”</p>
<p>“He was complaining about it down in the caves too,” said Trucy, and she tugged on Phoenix’s arm. “Daddy, please don’t ever let me see that movie.”</p>
<p>“It’s a grown-up movie anyway,” Phoenix told her, “so <em>no</em> chance.”</p>
<p>He heard Trucy let out a sigh of “Phew!” and saw her dramatically wiping her brow out of the corner of his eye.</p>
<p>“In any case,” said the Professor, “that’s as much as you need to know about the fact that the Painted King was the chief of a Pictish tribe. Would you care to continue the cross-examination, Phoenix?”</p>
<p>“HOLD IT!”</p>
<p>Michaela’s desk shuddered under the force of her slamming.</p>
<p>“I don’t appreciate you trying to do my job, Professor!” she shouted.</p>
<p>“I could say the same!” added the judge.</p>
<p>Layton took a few moments to stare at them both in confusion until he realised what they were talking about.</p>
<p>“Ah, my apologies,” he said once he had realised. “Go ahead then.”</p>
<p>The judge cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright,” he said, “please continue with the cross-examination.”</p>
<p>Phoenix nodded, pretending to agree with the blatant waste of the court’s time.</p>
<p>“Was there really any point to that?” Luke asked quietly.</p>
<p>“In all likelihood, there was,” Edgeworth replied. “You’d be surprised how strongly a member of the court will hang onto their pride.”</p>
<p>“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Trucy giggled.</p>
<p>Phoenix only contributed a small smile as he wrote down the word “Braveheart” and added an angry little frowny face beside it.</p>
<p>“This is already a lot,” he commented.</p>
<p>At least this time, there wasn’t any chance of the teacher preventing anybody from leaving or going to the bathroom because it was <em>them</em> who dismissed them, not the <em>bell</em>.</p>
<p>He checked the notes he’d taken on the testimony so that he knew what to ask next.</p>
<p>“Would you care to explain how you learned so much about the Painted King’s tribe and their exploits?” he asked, partly for the cross-examination but just as much from curiosity. “Especially the bit about the conquering and domination.”</p>
<p>There was an innuendo in there somewhere, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge it in front of Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“You must have been wondering where Trucy and I were hiding during our absence, hadn’t you, Phoenix?” Layton asked with another coy smile. “It’s the same reason behind our dirty clothing. We’ve been sheltering in the caves and mines that run beneath this village and the mountains it inhabits.”</p>
<p>Phoenix glanced around the room as surreptitiously as he could.</p>
<p>Good. It looked like everybody else had bought that story.</p>
<p>“Aww,” Luke pouted beside him. “He’s so much better at lying than me.”</p>
<p>“Luke, <em>ssh!</em>” Trucy hissed, and Phoenix elbowed him in the arm.</p>
<p>“You had better hope nobody heard that, young man,” muttered Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“Sorry, sorry!” Luke buried his flushed face in his hands.</p>
<p>Layton seemed to have just kept smiling at his awkward apprentice, although it slipped away as he returned his attention to the rest of the court.</p>
<p>“While I was in those caves,” he continued, “I decided to do a little exploring, and that’s when I came across-”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Michaela shouted over him. “Professor Layton, I demand that you stop talking immediately!”</p>
<p>The Professor obediently fell silent.</p>
<p>But Michaela hadn’t expected him to turn his gaze in her direction, and judging by her reaction, Phoenix assumed that Layton was far more talented at death glares than his usual gentlemanly demeanour would let on.</p>
<p>“Have I upset you, Ms Skellig?” he asked. “Are you afraid of me speaking honestly to the court?”</p>
<p>He made a show of adjusting his hat by the brim again, and even though he wasn’t the target of the anger, Phoenix felt a chill in the pit of his stomach.</p>
<p>“But what do you have to be afraid of?”</p>
<p>Michaela’s eyes were wide with terror. She swallowed hard and looked away from Layton in the vague direction of the judge’s lectern.</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but stare at Layton. What the hell kind of face was he making?</p>
<p>While he was still wondering, Layton looked back at Phoenix just long enough to give him a sly little wink. Michaela, meanwhile, stayed motionless and silent.</p>
<p>“…oh damn…” Phoenix muttered.</p>
<p>“Whoa!” Trucy gasped softly. “He left her totally speechless!”</p>
<p>“That’s the Professor for you,” Luke said proudly.</p>
<p>Once he was satisfied that he could continue, Layton looked back to the rest of the court and drew himself up to the fullest of his height.</p>
<p>“As I was saying,” he said, “one of the cave tunnels leads deep into the ground, deep enough to reach under the gorge between here and the other neighbourhood, and it let out on the far side of the cliff beyond it. Unfortunately there was a cave-in, hence the somewhat unfortunate state of my and Trucy’s attire, but the structure held out long enough for a thorough exploration of what we found down there.”</p>
<p>Phoenix scribbled these details down, wishing he could have gone down too. He and Layton unblocked that passage together, after all.</p>
<p>“So tell us, Professor,” he said as professionally as he could. “What did you find down there?”</p>
<p>Part of him hoped the reply was going to be ‘treasure’ but he’d already been warned that he watched too many adventure movies.</p>
<p>“The cave walls were lined with paintings,” Layton explained, “that told the story of the Painted King and his horde.”</p>
<p>A wave of quiet gossip washed over the gallery, and Phoenix could understand why they would all be so amazed. Gold or jewels or ancient ruins were one thing, but cave paintings? Ancient art? A window into the lives and minds of the people who used to live here?</p>
<p>Somehow that seemed even more fascinating than any alternative. Phoenix found himself trying to imagine what Layton could have seen. He imagined spears, paintings of bulls and horses, maybe a child who had scribbled an image of their family-</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” </p>
<p>-but his dreams were interrupted by Michaela slamming on her desk.</p>
<p>“If you claim that these passages caved in,” she shouted, “how can we trust a single word you say? Unless you have some photographs of these conquests and massacres you claim these paintings depicted, I see no reason why the court should believe you!”</p>
<p>The gossip in the gallery took moments to fade out.</p>
<p>While some still glared at Layton, many others stared at Michaela in confusion.</p>
<p>For the first time in the entire trial, Phoenix could empathise perfectly with what they were feeling.</p>
<p>“Um…” he said nervously. “Ms Skellig?”</p>
<p>Michaela just frowned at him.</p>
<p>“What?” she snapped.</p>
<p>She didn’t even realise what she had said, did she?</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig, I only mentioned that I had found paintings of the people who inhabited this region long ago,” Layton stated. “I didn’t mention anything specific about what those paintings showed.”</p>
<p>He gave her another pointed look that Phoenix couldn’t see.</p>
<p>“I wonder what could have led you to bring that up?” he asked.</p>
<p>Yet again, Michaela shrank back in shame, hugging her arms in self-protection.</p>
<p>“…no comment,” she said, as though it would defer suspicion entirely.</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t see his face, but he knew for a fact that Edgeworth was raising his eyebrow at the woman.</p>
<p>“However, you are correct,” Layton went on. “The cave paintings showed that the Painted King and his horde led a rampage across the hills and dales of the Highlands, slaughtering every tribe they came across.”</p>
<p>Still taking notes, Phoenix swallowed. He glanced down at Trucy, but she just looked thoughtful. Hopefully she hadn’t been exposed to anything horrible while she was down there.</p>
<p>“When I take that into account,” continued Layton, “it isn’t quite as surprising that at least some person following that period would see to it that the Painted King was worshipped as a god.”</p>
<p>He stroked his chin again.</p>
<p>“I must admit, however,” he said, “I’m surprised that such a thing would happen in the 21<sup>st</sup> century.”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Michaela yelled again. “People of Fatargan, we cannot just stand here and allow this shameless <em>blasphemy!</em>”</p>
<p>“Order! Order!” The judge slammed his gavel again. “Ms Skellig, I’ve already made it clear that this trial is to see no direct interference from the gallery!”</p>
<p>“And the Professor asking who’s seen Braveheart doesn’t count?” Phoenix said to himself.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig, I thought you would be happy,” said the undaunted Professor. “Am I not providing evidence that your god is real?”</p>
<p>For perhaps the third time since this cross-examination began, Michaela’s features flashed with silent anger, and she hugged her arms and glared around at nothing.</p>
<p>“…no comment…” she mumbled.</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but think that she’d feel a lot better if she just nutted up and told everybody the truth about what had her so upset.</p>
<p>“What’s going on with this lady?” he asked quietly.</p>
<p>“I would have thought it’s obvious, Wright,” said Edgeworth. “She knows a lot more than she’s letting on.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s obvious!” Phoenix snapped. “I was being rhetorical!”</p>
<p>“Haven’t you ever done something just for the sake of drama, Uncle Miles?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>“No, I haven’t!” Edgeworth replied angrily.</p>
<p>“Wow,” said Luke. “How boring must your life be?”</p>
<p>“I’ll have you know my life is plenty entertaining without such incredibly childish pursuits!” Edgeworth hissed furiously. “Read a book with a cup of tea by the light of the sun and tell me how much drama you feel the need for!”</p>
<p>Phoenix smelled another opportunity.</p>
<p>“Wise words,” he said, “from the Steel Samurai fanboy.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth snarled at him again, but still, Phoenix regretted nothing.</p>
<p>“If the defence have had their fill of banter…” said the Professor.</p>
<p>Now it was Phoenix who was on the receiving end of his friend’s glare, and he suddenly realised how unsettling it was to be fixated on by a man with near-black eyes.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it!” He scrawled out a quick note about Michaela seeming to know something. “Professor, I didn’t doubt you were a teacher before, but <em>yikes</em>.”</p>
<p>He blew out a quick sigh of relief as he finished writing. This trial was going to be the death of him.</p>
<p>Okay. Next statement.</p>
<p>“You say an ‘incident’ wiped out the Painted King’s tribe,” he recalled. “Can you explain to the court what that was?”</p>
<p>The glare softened. Thank <em>goodness</em>. Phoenix felt as though he could disintegrate on the spot if that went on for much longer.</p>
<p>“Tell me, Phoenix,” said Layton. “How much do you know about the Black Death?”</p>
<p>A sinking feeling crept into Phoenix’s gut.</p>
<p>“Um…” He lowered his journal and ran his fingers over his stubble, trying to think over everything he’d been told in 4<sup>th</sup> grade history class. “I know it was transmitted between rats and humans thanks to fleas… and it was mostly spread by trade ships, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, and it was the 1300s…” Luke added, equally as deep in thought. “1340s, right? I think it was mainly focused in Europe, but maybe it spread to Asia too… I don’t know if it made it to Africa or the Americas…”</p>
<p>“I know that Black Death or bubonic plague are the more common names for the disease,” Edgeworth put in, “but the name of the bacteria is yersinia pestis. From what I recall, it killed around a third of the population of Europe.”</p>
<p>“This is all horrible!” Trucy slapped her hands over her ears. “Uncle Hershel, is that what did it? Was the Painted King and all his people killed by the plague?”</p>
<p>“I’m very much prepared to believe it,” Layton replied, either not caring or not noticing how disgusted she was. “You see, young Trucy, when the people of England had been well and truly crippled by the Black Death, armies north of Hadrian’s Wall decided that they should try their hand at conquering the now-empty lands that lay to the south.”</p>
<p>It seemed like the sinking feeling hadn’t been for nothing.</p>
<p>“…while it was riddled with plague…” Phoenix said, mostly to himself.</p>
<p>“…bodies literally being piled up in the streets…” added Edgeworth. “…people employed to heap plague-ridden corpses into carts… hundreds incinerated or buried in gigantic pits-”</p>
<p>“Stop! Stop it!” Trucy crouched down on her chair, still holding her ears. “I don’t want to listen to this!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, can we move on?” asked Phoenix, stroking her hair with one hand. “I don’t want my baby girl to get nightmares.”</p>
<p>It seemed like only <em>then</em> did Layton realise what the problem was.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” he said upon noticing Trucy’s discomfort. “As you can imagine, that invasion didn’t quite go how its participants had hoped. Not only would the Painted King and his people have returned home disappointed at the lack of resistance, but riddled with sickness.”</p>
<p>All Phoenix could imagine was hairy men in kilts, half painted blue with woad, staggering through the snow and collapsing into their wattle and daub huts, riddled with black welts and swollen pustules and coughing up blood onto the cold, bare ground.</p>
<p>He swallowed. The last thing he wanted was for one of these people who hated him to notice him throwing up in his mouth.</p>
<p>“Oh man…” he groaned. “And back then, would they have any clue how to treat it?”</p>
<p>Just like that, Layton lit up.</p>
<p>“You may be familiar with the popular image of the plague doctor,” he said. “Those people who dressed in long robes and wide-brimmed hats and those masks with the long beaks. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, of course,” Phoenix replied.</p>
<p>“Well, unfortunately,” said Layton, “those didn’t come into fashion until the Stuart era. That is to say, the 1600s, when the Black Death had a second go at crippling our fair islands. Medieval treatments for the bubonic plague included…”</p>
<p>He held up fingers to count on.</p>
<p>“…rubbing chopped onions, herbs or snakes on the boils the disease would cause,” he listed, “or cutting up a pigeon and rubbing it all over the body or…”</p>
<p>He lowered his hands.</p>
<p>“You get my point,” he said. “No vaccines and no real treatments meant that within a week, any person unfortunate enough to contract the disease would be dead.”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” shouted Michaela. “You say that, Mr Layton, but I have no doubt that a man as powerful as the Painted King would have very quickly developed an immunity to the disease!”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Phoenix yelled, and he followed it up by slamming on his desk. “I’m sorry, Ms Skellig, but as I’m sure the Professor may have made clear by now, the Painted King wasn’t a god. He wasn’t even a demigod.”</p>
<p>“Maybe he was a powerful chieftain and commander of an army,” said Edgeworth, “but he was still nothing more than a man. A mortal man with a human body and a fallible mind.”</p>
<p>Michaela didn’t reply.</p>
<p>Standing behind her bench, withdrawing into herself and hugging her arms, she suddenly looked very small and lost. Phoenix almost caught himself feeling sorry for her.</p>
<p>Once he was satisfied that the interruption was over, Layton cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“Even with the amateurish treatments of the era,” he said, “once a single member of the Painted King’s tribe had been infected, I’m afraid it wouldn’t have taken long for many more to have suffered the same fate. It wouldn’t surprise me if the sickness quickly spread to the entirety of that tribe, including their powerful leader.”</p>
<p>The horrible mental image returned full force, and Phoenix could only hope that his cheeks didn’t turn Luke-seeing-blood colour.</p>
<p>“How many people did you say were in that tribe, Professor?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>Layton stroked his chin again.</p>
<p>“Judging by one of those paintings,” he said, “I would say around two hundred.”</p>
<p>Two <em>hundred?</em></p>
<p>Phoenix tried to picture it. Two hundreds, four sets of fifty, eight sets of twenty-five… much as he tried, he just couldn’t fit that many human beings into a single place in his mind.</p>
<p>“Two hundred people all dying at the same time?” Luke’s voice was softened by horror. “That’s…” He stepped back from the bench, digging a hand into his hair. “Oh god, that’s <em>awful</em>.”</p>
<p>Two hundred people. But not all of them were soldiers, were they? Some of them would have been too old to fight, others too young, no doubt there were women and children… all of them dying of such a horrible illness and knowing their relatives weren’t going to make it…</p>
<p>Phoenix suddenly desperately wished he had a glass of water to settle his stomach.</p>
<p>“I’m not too sure how contagious the bubonic plague is,” Edgeworth said, “but I would estimate it to have taken, hmm…” He frowned in thought. “…perhaps around three months before the entire tribe was wiped out, give or take a week. That is, of course, assuming none of them took their own lives out of despair.”</p>
<p>Another thrill of horror slammed into Phoenix. If <em>he</em> was so horrified by all of this, what on earth must Trucy be thinking?</p>
<p>“Trucy, are you okay?” he asked.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath and pulled her cape tight around her chest.</p>
<p>“I’m alright, Dad,” she replied. “I’m trying to think of it as a free history lesson I can impress all my friends with when I get back home.”</p>
<p>This ten-year-old girl was planning on sharing detailed information about people dying of the Black Death with a group of other unsuspecting ten-year-olds. Phoenix was almost impressed.</p>
<p>“Your friends are going to be <em>so</em> creeped out,” he pointed out. “Let me know what their faces look like.”</p>
<p>Trucy flashed him a grin with a thumbs-up.</p>
<p>“So Hershel,” Phoenix said as he turned back to the Professor, “to put this in a way people who’d been struggling to keep up can understand, the Painted King and his horde were actually a tribe of Pictish conquerors who tried to invade England during the Black Death, but got sick and died from it.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s correct,” Layton replied. “Well done for paying attention, Phoenix. Were I a teacher of a younger grade, I would have awarded you a gold star.”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s cheeks suddenly felt very warm.</p>
<p>“…I mean, I wouldn’t say no to it,” he admitted.</p>
<p>He only wrote down what he thought would be necessary for referring to later. The last thing he wanted was to make himself sick again upon rereading his notes.</p>
<p>Maybe it would be a good idea to try Trucy’s approach. Just view this as a history lesson that didn’t require him to torture himself with the horror show that was the education system that he had been forced to grow up with.</p>
<p>Right, the next statement to press was…</p>
<p>Interesting.</p>
<p>It was about the Painted King’s horde <em>supposedly</em> haunting Fatargan.</p>
<p>“Okay, this is something I’m curious about,” he told Layton. “What makes you say this tribe ‘supposedly’ haunted this village?”</p>
<p>The Professor adjusted his hat again, and Phoenix fought back the urge to walk right up to him and slap the damn thing off his head.</p>
<p>“Well, Phoenix,” he said, “I don’t claim to know the psychology or worshipping practises of the Pictish people. Even as accomplished an archaeologist as I am, I’m afraid the Picts are still quite a mystery to us, even with our contemporary methods of investigation.”</p>
<p>He slipped his hands back into his pockets.</p>
<p>“Methods, I should add,” he continued, “that will allow us to excavate those collapsed caves and explore their paintings in greater detail.”</p>
<p>“Oh, thank goodness!” cried the judge. “When you mentioned those passages had caved in, I was afraid the paintings had been lost forever! I’m very much looking forward to seeing our village’s history with my own eyes!”</p>
<p>Phoenix looked over at Michaela to check her reaction. Was she going to shout for another objection? Was she going to try to talk over Layton yet again?</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>She just stood there, cradling her elbows, staring emptily at the floor in numb silence.</p>
<p>Was that all she was going to do? She wasn’t even going to look at the witness stand?</p>
<p>Apparently not. Phoenix shrugged and turned back to the Professor.</p>
<p>“The only assumption I can make,” Layton continued, “is that the Painted King in particular shared an idea of the afterlife comparable to that of the Nordic warriors who took power in the region down south, by which I mean England, several centuries before the Black Death outbreak. Maybe there was even a Viking or one of his descendants who wound up in the tribe. I believe I heard mention of some ‘Otherworld’ not long ago, but I could be wrong. I’d have to take a closer look at their graves before I can say for certain.”</p>
<p>He cupped his chin again, still keeping one hand firmly in his pocket.</p>
<p>“Given what appeared to have been a rich history of conquest and battle,” he said, “these people may have believed that battle was the only way a person should be allowed to die.”</p>
<p>“But they didn’t die in battle,” Edgeworth pointed out, “did they?”</p>
<p>Layton slowly shook his head.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid not, Mr Edgeworth,” he replied. “As we’ve made clear by now, these people were wiped out by sickness. That being said, it wouldn’t surprise me too much if these people’s beliefs led them to think they would wander as lost souls until the end of eternity.”</p>
<p>“What about the Silver Violin?” asked Luke, eagerly leaning over the table. “Professor, if you really think this haunting isn’t real, then how does the Silver Violin tie into it?”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I don’t know, Luke,” said Layton. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there was at least one person in this village who had some idea…”</p>
<p>He took a moment to cast his eyes in Michaela’s direction.</p>
<p>“…but that’s one detail I must confess to still being in the dark about.”</p>
<p>Michaela stayed still and utterly silent.</p>
<p>She didn’t even look towards the witness stand.</p>
<p>“Nevertheless,” Layton went on with a satisfied smile, “there are many phenomena that could explain what we’ve seen that don’t include the village being genuinely haunted.”</p>
<p>Phoenix froze, his pencil halfway down the page.</p>
<p>He hadn’t wanted to believe it – he’d wanted to think the Professor could be a little more open-minded than that – but he had totally convinced himself that there was absolutely <em>nothing</em> ghostly going on in Fatargan.</p>
<p>Hadn’t the things he’d seen last night through the magatama done anything to change his mind?</p>
<p>Phoenix’s hand wandered down to his side, tracing along the length of the scratches that had been carved into his skin. If Layton didn’t believe in ghosts, then where the heck did he think those wounds had come from?</p>
<p>He slipped his hand into his pocket and rubbed over his magatama again, hoping it could somehow give him strength and resisting temptation to slap it on the table.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” he asked.</p>
<p>Layton turned a gentle smile in his direction.</p>
<p>“Yes, Phoenix,” he responded. “I’m quite sure.”</p>
<p>“Totally?” Phoenix added. “Completely? No doubt whatsoever?”</p>
<p>The smile slipped away.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure if I like what you’re insinuating,” he said.</p>
<p>Phoenix took a deep breath to prepare himself. He had a feeling this was going to be painful.</p>
<p>“Very well, Professor,” he said as professionally as he could. “I’m rather curious. What phemom-”</p>
<p>Dammit.</p>
<p>“Phenomam-”</p>
<p>Damn it all to hell!</p>
<p>“What <em>things</em> can you tell us,” Phoenix settled for, “would explain the so-called misconception that this village and the land it’s built on is haunted?”</p>
<p>The Professor smiled again, and Phoenix could only pray that he wouldn’t embarrass himself too much. Michaela had moved for the first time in a while; she was watching Layton, curious and expectant.</p>
<p>“Well, for starters,” he began, “I’m sure you know that holographic projection technology has made leaps and bounds in the past few years. All you would need to do is record the movements of a number of people and then play them back in a different setting. With all the rock faces, trees and buildings in this village, there are plenty of places that could be used to hide a projector.”</p>
<p>Michaela slapped a hand over her mouth. For perhaps the first time that day, Phoenix understood <em>exactly</em> what she was probably thinking at that moment.</p>
<p>“Another option,” Layton continued thoughtfully, “could be that these mountains have been contaminated by some hallucinogenic pollutant that every single one of us have been unintentionally consuming ever since we first arrived in this region. And yes, that includes those who have been raised here ever since birth. The Sacred Well would be an ideal location for distribution of that pollutant.”</p>
<p>The sound of faint choking reached Phoenix’s ears, and he realised it was coming from Michaela. She was <em>snorting</em> into her hand.</p>
<p>“However,” Layton went on regardless, “from what I’ve seen of this village and its people, there is one idea that stands out to me as more likely than either of those possibilities.”</p>
<p>Phoenix held his journal right up to his nose. There was only so much second-hand embarrassment he could tolerate at once before he started praying for the jaws of infinity to crack open and swallow him whole.</p>
<p>“And what would that be, Professor?” asked the undaunted Edgeworth.</p>
<p>It was so, <em>so </em>tempting to slap a hand over his mouth and make him shut up.</p>
<p>“Surely you understand, Mr Edgeworth,” said Layton. “I have no doubt you’ve been quite rudely mocking it ever since the day you arrived in this village. I refer, of course, to the religion that was created around the history of the Painted King. From what I’ve seen of the people of Fatargan and their dedication to this apparent god, it’s quite possible that every single one of us has fallen victim to the power of suggestion.”</p>
<p>Even though his face was on fire, Phoenix looked over the top of his journal at the smiling man still on the stand who apparently hadn’t noticed the confusion that surrounded him on all sides.</p>
<p>“We’re told that this area is incredibly haunted,” explained the oblivious Layton, “and as a result, we’re willing to take that as fact and to see so-called spirits where, in actuality, you wouldn’t find anything of note-”</p>
<p>That did it.</p>
<p>Michaela burst out laughing. Not the gentle, melodic little giggles Phoenix had heard from her before, but raucous, undignified, uncontrollable <em>cackling</em>. Her face was screwed up and brilliant red as she leaned over the table, struggling to prop herself up on her hands and stomping on the ground.</p>
<p>A look around the room told Phoenix that the rest of the village were equally as alarmed at the sight. One woman had her hand over her mouth in shock. Another leaned to one side to whisper to her husband, staring at the maniacally laughing woman the entire time.</p>
<p>Even the ever-unflappable Professor Layton was staring at Michaela in evident alarm.</p>
<p>Phoenix wished he had a clock to check. He had no idea what the time was, but it already felt like she had been laughing for a <em>while</em>.</p>
<p>She clutched her stomach and bent over, slapping on the table.</p>
<p>Had she finally just <em>snapped?!</em></p>
<p>“Ms Skellig?” the judge said nervously. “Is something the Professor said amusing to you?”</p>
<p>Still trying to hide his face, Phoenix glanced sideways at Edgeworth, who had joined the rest of the court in staring at Michaela in horror.</p>
<p>“Um… Dad?” Trucy grabbed his arm again. “Can I hide behind you?”</p>
<p>Phoenix stepped closer to her commandeered chair so that she could take shelter in his shadow.</p>
<p>“I think I might know why she’s laughing,” he told his co-counsels.</p>
<p>“Really?” asked Luke. “Why?”</p>
<p>A quick look in his direction told Phoenix that while he was visibly uncomfortable, Luke wasn’t quite as horrified as the rest of the court was by the sight and sound of Michaela’s bizarre hysterics, which <em>still</em> hadn’t stopped.</p>
<p>“I want to tell you,” Phoenix replied, “but I worry that you might laugh right back at me too.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” Layton said awkwardly, “Ms Skellig? Could you please tell me what you think is so funny?”</p>
<p>Michaela gasped and struggled to breathe.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry!” she cried, wiping tears out of her eyes. “Truly, I’m sorry! I couldn’t help myself!”</p>
<p>She straightened back up and took a deep breath, forcing a poker face back up.</p>
<p>“You see, I…” Another deep breath, coupled with a quiet snort. “Professor, you…”</p>
<p>One more deep breath before she had finally rid herself of her smile.</p>
<p>“You’re plucking all of these concepts out of nowhere,” she told Layton, “and every single one of them is more ridiculous than the last, but…”</p>
<p>She wiped her face on the back of her hand again.</p>
<p>“Don’t you think it’s more likely that Fatargan really is haunted?” he asked. “Isn’t that just easier to believe?”</p>
<p>The Professor crossed his arms. He definitely wasn’t smiling anymore.</p>
<p>“Not to any person who lives in the real world, Ms Skellig,” he replied.</p>
<p>Phoenix cringed again.</p>
<p>“I guess denial really is more than a river in Egypt,” he muttered to himself.</p>
<p>“While I admit that it may be rather bizarre,” said Edgeworth, “these concepts certainly do make a great deal more sense than the idea that this village is haunted.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure, Uncle Miles?” asked Trucy, still hiding behind her dad. “You sure you aren’t just mad they made you the Minstrel?”</p>
<p>“It’s called being logical, Trucy,” Edgeworth replied. “Trust me when I say that there cannot possibly be any actual <em>ghosts</em> haunting this place.”</p>
<p>“I…”</p>
<p>This time it was Luke. He clutched one of his toggles and swallowed hard.</p>
<p>“I don’t know about that,” he said nervously.</p>
<p>Phoenix watched him in curiosity. Was the kid beginning to see the light?</p>
<p>“I know it may be strange, Luke,” Layton said before Luke could go any further into his thoughts, “but please consider everything that you and I have encountered during our previous adventures together. Would you ever have suspected the truth about the population of St Mystere before you and I uncovered it? Or the true circumstances of the abandonment of Folsense?”</p>
<p>Luke shrank into his coat.</p>
<p>“Well…” He fiddled with the toggle in his fingers. “No, I guess I wouldn’t.”</p>
<p>Phoenix set his journal down. He <em>had</em> to put a stop to this before Layton annoyed the villagers to the point that they swarmed him and tore him to shreds. He didn’t give a damn how red his face was anymore.</p>
<p>“Professor,” he said, “there’s one thing you haven’t told us yet.”</p>
<p>Layton looked over at him, the twinkle in his eyes betraying the fact that he was still entirely confident in everything he was saying.</p>
<p>“Please feel free to ask about anything you’re unsure of, Phoenix,” he said happily. “I’m more than happy to provide any and all information I’ve managed to gather during my investigations in this village.”</p>
<p>Phoenix closed his journal, marking the page with his pencil again.</p>
<p>“You’ve presented these concepts, these hypotheses,” he said, “and you’ve told the court how they could work and how they explain all the strangeness of this village, but if <em>any</em> of these are the truth-” He prodded hard on his journal. “-then who the heck came up with all of it? Whose big idea was it to turn this village into some kind of high-altitude medieval warlord-worshipping ghost cult?”</p>
<p>“And why the soggy <em>biscuits</em> did they need me to stand on a mountaintop until my fingers fell off from frostbite?!” Edgeworth demanded.</p>
<p>Layton cradled his chin, dark eyes softly closed, running his fingertip down the arrow-straight line of his jaw.</p>
<p>“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked pleasantly.</p>
<p>He stepped out from behind the witness stand and paced out into the middle of the court, walking between the defence and prosecution, but apparently paying attention to neither.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I can’t vouch for the reason,” he explained to the court as he walked. “While I do profess to be a capable investigator, I can’t by any means call myself a mind reader.”</p>
<p>Her joy now utterly sapped once more, Michaela frowned as she watched the Professor idly wandering wherever he wanted.</p>
<p>“But I <em>can</em> tell the court with quite an amount of certainty,” he went on, “that there is, at the very least, one person in Fatargan who has known everything about the Painted King from the very beginning.”</p>
<p>Even the gallery was totally silent. All the citizens of the village were watching Layton’s every movement.</p>
<p>“A person whom every single one of you viewed as a friend,” Layton went on, “when in actuality, they have done nothing but use and manipulate every last one of you ever since the very beginning.”</p>
<p>Phoenix held his breath. He didn’t dare to move. He didn’t even want to blink for fear of being the first to break the thick, syrupy tension that had blanketed the room.</p>
<p>Layton curled the hand near his chin into a fist and halted in his pacing.</p>
<p>When his eyes flicked open, they were burning with determination.</p>
<p>“And that person is YOU!”</p>
<p>He thrust his hand out in the most dramatic point Phoenix had ever seen in all his years of experience in dramatic pointing.</p>
<p>And it was directed right at the prosecutor’s bench.</p>
<p>The gallery gasped in shock and horror, but it took several seconds for Michaela to process that <em>she </em>was the one being indicated as the mastermind, and when she did, her eyes widened in astonishment and she stumbled back, right into the wall behind her.</p>
<p>She choked, panting in panic, and didn’t do anything to deny it. The people in the village began muttering and whispering when that reality set into their minds.</p>
<p>Phoenix’s blood ran cold.</p>
<p>The Professor had been <em>right</em>.</p>
<p>“What?!” the judge exclaimed.</p>
<p>“She <em>knew?</em>” Phoenix spat.</p>
<p>“Hold it!” shouted Edgeworth. “It wasn’t her that sent me up that bloody mountain!”</p>
<p>“Professor!” cried Luke. “How could <em>Michaela</em> be the mastermind?”</p>
<p>“She was so nice up until today!” Trucy pointed out.</p>
<p>Layton stayed where he was. Once he seemed satisfied that his point had been driven home in both a literal and figurative sense, he lowered his hand and shifted to face Michaela more directly.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” he said, and paused for a moment to think. “May I call you Michaela?”</p>
<p>Michaela stepped forward, away from the wall, hugging her arms and avoiding the Professor’s line of sight again as she tried to calm her breathing.</p>
<p>“…you may as well,” she said numbly.</p>
<p>It was a little hard to see from behind, but Phoenix could just about see Layton giving her a slow nod of understanding.</p>
<p>“Michaela,” he said, “I believe this has gone on for long enough. Don’t you think your people have earned the right to know the truth? Not just about this village, but about the woman who ran it up until two days ago?”</p>
<p>Michaela didn’t say a word. The only movement she made was to adjust her glasses again.</p>
<p>“If there was to be any person in Fatargan who knew the truth,” Layton said to her, “it would naturally be you.”</p>
<p>She still stayed quiet.</p>
<p>Her gaze wandered all over the room. She looked to the gallery, to the villagers she had no doubt spent her entire life with, but not a single one of them was looking at her with the love and admiration that she had been showered with the first time Phoenix had seen her. No one person seemed like they were even considering, for a single moment, calling her their princess or their angel.</p>
<p>She looked up at the judge. Still no support. He just sighed and looked away from her, and Phoenix almost winced at the sight. With how happy she had been to try to collude with her dear old Uncle Angus, that <em>had</em> to sting.</p>
<p>And then she looked past Layton at the defence bench.</p>
<p>Phoenix wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react. The most he could think of to do was give her a sad little shrug. He felt Trucy lean past him to look across the room at Michaela, and he glanced around at Edgeworth and Luke to see that they both seemed just as uncertain as he felt at that moment.</p>
<p>It was about time this woman realised that right now, <em>nobody</em> was on her side.</p>
<p>She relaxed her hands away from her arms and sighed, shoulders slumping, in defeat.</p>
<p>“…yes,” she said, almost too softly for Phoenix to hear. “Yes, it… it’s gone on for more than long enough.”</p>
<p>Layton turned to face Phoenix with his confident smile returning full force.</p>
<p>“Phoenix,” he said, “would you like to do the honours?”</p>
<p>Phoenix took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he replied, and he took a moment for the court’s attention to turn his way. “Your Honour?”</p>
<p>Now it was his turn to point at Michaela, and he did so as hard and as dramatically as he could.</p>
<p>“I hereby call the victim’s daughter, Michaela Skellig, to testify to the court!”</p>
<p>“I beg your pardon?!” spluttered the judge.</p>
<p>The members of the gallery started to gossip again, even more outraged than they had been before. Layton continued smiling, obviously satisfied with himself, as he slowly made his way back to the witness stand, and he gave Phoenix another wink once he had arrived.</p>
<p>Phoenix smiled to himself. The signal was obvious. It was time for him to take the reins of the trial again.</p>
<p>“Order!” The judge slammed his gavel over and over. “Order in the court!”</p>
<p>The chatter didn’t die down. When Phoenix glanced over to check, he saw angry faces, sad faces, baffled faces all around from people who had no idea what was going on and had probably given up on trying to follow wherever these events were going to lead to.</p>
<p>“I said ORDER!” yelled the judge, slamming his gavel even harder than before.</p>
<p>The piercing clacks were enough to drive needles into the ears of everyone in the room. That was the only reason Phoenix could think of for why they would all suddenly quieten down, because surely they hadn’t run out of things to gossip about.</p>
<p>Layton, meanwhile, just stood at the witness stand with an enigmatic smile.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright!” the judge shouted. “By this point in the trial, I fully understand your reasons for summoning Ms Skellig, and I understand how you and the Professor could have come to the same conclusion, but I cannot allow this to proceed! Ms Skellig is the <em>prosecutor</em> in this case! The trial can’t continue if we don’t have a prosecutor!”</p>
<p>Phoenix’s heart sank. Had they really come this far only to be blocked so close to the finish line?</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s true,” he heard Trucy say.</p>
<p>He felt her step out from behind him and when he checked, he saw her looking up at the judge with her hands clasped together and the widest, most pleading puppy-dog eyes he had ever seen on her round little face.</p>
<p>“No prosecutor means the defence wins by default, right?” she asked as simperingly as she could.</p>
<p>The judge, undeterred, shook his head.</p>
<p>“Nice try, young lady,” he replied, “but I can’t allow this.”</p>
<p>Trucy’s act dropped in an instant.</p>
<p>“Darn,” she muttered.</p>
<p>A performer through and through. Phoenix almost wanted to laugh at how suddenly she had dropped her act.</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” Edgeworth suddenly spoke up. “May I have the court’s attention for one moment?”</p>
<p>He had drawn himself up to the fullest of his height and stared down the court with his arms crossed. The sight would have been very impressive and professional if he hadn’t been wearing an ugly grey hoodie.</p>
<p>“Go ahead, Mr Edgeworth,” said the judge.</p>
<p>Edgeworth smiled down his nose at the court.</p>
<p>“You say that the trial can’t proceed without a prosecutor,” he said. “That it simply can’t happen if the bench is left vacated. Is that correct?”</p>
<p>It took all of two seconds for Phoenix to realise what he was hinting at.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth, are you going to say what I think you’re going to say?” he asked even though he knew it was pointless.</p>
<p>To nobody’s surprise, Edgeworth ignored him.</p>
<p>“But what if someone else were to take Ms Skellig’s place behind the bench?” he asked. “Perhaps somebody with nearly two decades’ worth of prosecutorial experience under their belt? A person, perhaps, who’s been wishing to return to their usual job ever since their car got pushed into a gorge?”</p>
<p>Phoenix resisted the overpowering urge to snatch up his journal and hide his face again.</p>
<p>“My word, you’re referring to yourself, aren’t you?!” cried the judge.</p>
<p>“Whoop, there it is,” Phoenix said flatly.</p>
<p>He looked up at Layton and <em>prayed</em> for support.</p>
<p>“Yes, that could work, couldn’t it?” Layton said instead. “Thank you for so kindly volunteering your efforts, Mr Edgeworth.”</p>
<p>“Think nothing of it, Professor,” Edgeworth replied proudly. “I’m simply happy to be able to do my actual paid <em>job</em>.”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>Michaela slammed on her desk for what felt like the first time in forever.</p>
<p>“I won’t allow this!” she shouted. “I won’t allow you to do that, Mr Edgeworth! I am NOT going to allow you to undermine my-”</p>
<p>“You’ve been called as a witness, Ms Skellig,” Edgeworth interrupted. “It’s a felony to refuse such a call, is it not?”</p>
<p>Michaela frowned at him in confusion.</p>
<p>“Is it?” Luke hissed to Phoenix.</p>
<p>“Maybe in England,” Phoenix replied, “but I don’t have a clue.”</p>
<p>“Uncle Miles, how could you betray us like this?!” cried Trucy, switching the puppy-dog eyes back on. “You’re on the defence! You’re supposed to be on <em>our</em> side!”</p>
<p>“Indeed, Mr Edgeworth,” added Michaela. “It was enough that you were responsible for negligent homicide. You didn’t have to prove yourself to be a traitor as well!”</p>
<p>“On top of that, Mr Edgeworth,” the judge spoke up, “we have a more fundamental problem. Even with as much time as you’ve spent behind the defence’s bench today, you’re still the defendant in this trial.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth, of course, remained impassive. He just stood and waited for the judge to finish talking.</p>
<p>“You do understand that if you take up Ms Skellig’s position in her absence,” the old man went on, “you will effectively be prosecuting… yourself?”</p>
<p>It wasn’t until then that Edgeworth’s smile finally slipped away. He unfolded his arms and gently rested his hands on the table.</p>
<p>“Wright,” he said softly, “Ms Skellig, Your Honour, allow me to share something that I’ve learned within the past half-decade of my work.”</p>
<p>Phoenix suddenly felt enraptured. What in the world was this man about to say?</p>
<p>“While it's true that the duty of a prosecutor is to search for proof of the defendant's guilt,” Edgeworth told the court, “that is only one part of a thickly multilayered position. We prosecutors must never simply focus on winning the trial. To do that is the quickest way to fall victim to greed, selfishness and corruption. Trust me. I used to hold that view.”</p>
<p>He sighed.</p>
<p>“Lord knows how many innocent people I imprisoned in my blind desperation for victory.”</p>
<p>He only whispered that part loud enough for Phoenix to hear, and even then, Phoenix had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to hear it.</p>
<p>“Ever since my perfect record was irreparably tarnished,” he went on, “I have come to learn that the duty of a prosecutor is far more than that. We exist to challenge the preconceived notions the defence brings to the table, not simply smack them down into the dirt. As I said, victory is irrelevant. Rather than a win for the trial, we must strive to uncover the truth, to pursue it until the trail runs cold, whether it nets us a win or not. If it means going so far as to help the defence, then so be it.”</p>
<p>He lowered his gaze at Michaela.</p>
<p>“I wonder, Ms Skellig, what truths <em>you</em> have strived to uncover in your time as a prosecutor?”</p>
<p>Michaela gasped in horror. She looked as though she had been electrocuted.</p>
<p>“Where did you study, by the way?” Edgeworth asked. “Everything I’ve heard about this village seems to suggest that you’ve never once left its borders.”</p>
<p>“Let’s not start on <em>those</em> semantics, shall we?” Michaela snapped. “Maybe I’m not a fully qualified prosecutor, but Uncle Angus isn’t a fully qualified judge either! He’s a retiree who used to run the library until his arthritis forced him to hand over to his son!”</p>
<p>The judge was taken aback by her statement.</p>
<p>“Well, there’s no need to be so callous about it,” he said sadly.</p>
<p>“And what about you, Mr Wright?” Michaela demanded. “What kind of lawyer enlists <em>children</em> as his co-counsel? Let alone one so young she has to stand on a chair just to see over the bench!”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” screamed Trucy, and she stomped on the desk with all her might.</p>
<p>“Objection?” asked Luke. “To what?”</p>
<p>“To that!” Trucy responded. “That was…” She awkwardly withdrew her foot. “It was objectionable, okay?!”</p>
<p>“Don’t let her get to you, sweetie,” said Phoenix.</p>
<p>He patted on her head to help her feel better before looking up at his closest friend again.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth,” he said, “can you swear to me that this is what you want to do?”</p>
<p>To his amazement, Edgeworth actually turned to look him in the eye.</p>
<p>“If it’s the only way I can get to the truth about why I was forced to freeze on a mountaintop,” he said, “then I’ll gladly take whatever risks are involved.”</p>
<p>He looked to the two youngsters who stood with them behind the bench.</p>
<p>“You’ll be able to handle yourself,” he said. “Especially with <em>these</em> two by your side. Won’t you, Wright?”</p>
<p>He patted Trucy on the head with a faint smile.</p>
<p>“You bet he will!” Luke replied happily.</p>
<p>“We’re not going to stop until we know <em>everything!</em>” Trucy declared.</p>
<p>Phoenix nudged the hand away from his daughter’s head.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he said. “Do whatever you have to do.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth nodded to him with a smug smile of determination.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t think a recess is necessary for witness preparation, Your Honour,” Layton spoke up. “I have a feeling that Ms Skellig knows exactly what to say. Don’t you?”</p>
<p>Again he looked directly at the prosecutor’s bench.</p>
<p>“Professor Layton?” said Michaela.</p>
<p>“Yes, Ms Skellig?”</p>
<p>She glared at him with immeasurable ferocity.</p>
<p>“I <em>loathe</em> you.”</p>
<p>Layton looked away from her, lowering his hat’s brim to hide his eyes.</p>
<p>“Considering the circumstances,” he said, “I couldn’t blame you.”</p>
<p>Phoenix put a dent in the tension by nudging Edgeworth in the arm.</p>
<p>“Break a leg, Edgeworth,” he said.</p>
<p>“Break her resolve, Wright,” Edgeworth said back.</p>
<p>Before Phoenix had a chance to respond, he left the defence bench and walked casually over to the prosecutor’s side, forcing Michaela out of the way.</p>
<p>With no other options left, Michaela departed for the witness stand.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. The Fall of the House of Skellig part 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Now then, witness,” Edgeworth began once he was comfortably in position. “Could you please state your name and profession for the court?”</p>
<p>Michaela hugged her arms and deliberately avoided looking in his direction.</p>
<p>“I hope you understand how ridiculous this is,” she said. “Even with your reasoning, you still want to prosecute your own trial?”</p>
<p>Edgeworth frowned.</p>
<p>“I said can you please state your name for the court?” he reiterated. “Profession as well, if you would be so kind.”</p>
<p>Still Michaela refused to look anywhere near him.</p>
<p>“I wanted to like you when you first arrived,” she said. “I thought you were handsome and kind. Maybe I was right about the former, but I was entirely wrong about the latter.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth slammed one hand on his bench and shouted a single word.</p>
<p>“NAME.”</p>
<p>Phoenix slapped a hand over his mouth and snorted into his fingers.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” Luke asked in confusion. “What’s so funny?”</p>
<p>“This <em>always</em> happens!” Phoenix hissed, struggling to keep his voice down so that Edgeworth couldn’t hear him. “Edgeworth can <em>never</em> just get the witness to do what he wants!”</p>
<p>“Daddy, I think it makes sense here,” Trucy pointed out.</p>
<p>“I know, but still!” Phoenix responded.</p>
<p>He dragged his composure back into place and watched Michaela finally give up her internal debate over whether to co-operate or not. She hugged her arms and frowned at the floor in front of the witness stand.</p>
<p>“My name is Michaela Skellig,” she stated, “and my profession is…”</p>
<p>Her eyes fluttered sideways.</p>
<p>“…it’s…” she said nervously. “…I suppose I… if I had to choose, I would call myself a freelance artist.”</p>
<p>“Holy crap, Edgeworth was right!” Phoenix whispered to his co-counsels. “She really <em>isn’t</em> a prosecutor!”</p>
<p>“Do you think she might’ve just taken up that position because she was the mayor’s daughter?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“And they didn’t want Uncle Miles to do anything except the Minstrel thing, did they?” Trucy pointed out.</p>
<p>“A freelance artist, you say?” Edgeworth asked, somehow managing the gall to sound amused. “And yet you stood in court as a prosecutor. On more than one occasion, if what I’ve heard from Mr Wright and the police officers is any indication.”</p>
<p>He crossed his arms and glared down his nose at Michaela.</p>
<p>“You’d better hope I feel courteous enough to avoid reporting you to my superiors once I return to the rest of society,” he warned.</p>
<p>“Ouch…” hissed Luke.</p>
<p>“Leave it, Luke,” Phoenix responded. “If there’s anyone who’s earned the right to be petty, it’s Edgeworth.”</p>
<p>“If the prosecution would allow me to speak?”</p>
<p>Attention returned to the witness stand, where Layton was looking hopefully around the courtroom.</p>
<p>“Go ahead, Professor,” said Edgeworth.</p>
<p>Layton glanced sideways at Michaela, who was still frowning at the floor, very obviously going out of her way to avoid looking at him.</p>
<p>“I believe,” he said, “that Ms Skellig may have been nominated for the role of prosecutor because of all the citizens in this village, she is the most qualified for the role. Not only that, but her mother – the victim in this case, I know – is the person who had arranged these trials to begin with.”</p>
<p>He checked on Michaela again, but she still wasn’t showing any sign of acknowledging his existence.</p>
<p>“Having her daughter serve as prosecutor,” Layton explained, “was the closest she could come to controlling the trial without directly interfering and exposing her true nature to the people whose town she ran.”</p>
<p>Now it was Edgeworth who frowned.</p>
<p>“Witness,” he said, “does that mean that you were the one who put <em>this</em> trial together in your mother’s stead?”</p>
<p>Michaela closed her eyes. Seeing her like that, Phoenix worried that she might start crying again.</p>
<p>“…yes,” she replied, barely loud enough for the court to hear her.</p>
<p>“Ah, that makes sense,” said Edgeworth, and again he summoned the nerve to smile. “Thank you for this opportunity to make my voice heard at long last.”</p>
<p>Phoenix heard a snort from beside him.</p>
<p>“Does he really have to rub it in that she completely lost control?” Luke squeaked.</p>
<p>“Daddy was right though!” Trucy whispered. “After everything they forced him to do, Uncle Miles deserves to be a bit mean!”</p>
<p>“That aside,” said Phoenix, “I didn’t expect <em>Hershel </em>to speak up in Michaela’s defence.”</p>
<p>“That’s the Professor for you,” Luke said proudly. “Regardless of hostility, he’ll always step up for a lady in need.”</p>
<p>In spite of the situation, Phoenix had to admit he was almost impressed.</p>
<p>“Now then, witness,” said Edgeworth. “Without further ado, I think you have some information the court would be interested in hearing.”</p>
<p>Michaela blew out a long, exhausted sigh of defeat. When she opened her eyes, she still kept them fixed on the floor.</p>
<p>“Alright,” she said, still-soft voiced and faint. “What do you want me to talk about?”</p>
<p>“I’d like you to tell us everything you know about the victim’s actions prior to her death,” Edgeworth instructed. “Far, <em>far</em> prior. Specifically, I think it’s quite important that we know just how involved she is with this Painted King religion the Professor claims her to have been the mastermind of.”</p>
<p>Arms still crossed, he gave her another incriminating glare.</p>
<p>“There isn’t any point in pretending you don’t know anything,” he told her. “She was your <em>mother</em>, after all.”</p>
<p>Michaela lowered her hands to the table in front of her, the eyes of the gallery watching her every movement with bated breath.</p>
<p>After what felt like forever, she looked up, her steely grey eyes fixed firmly on the courtroom.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she said. “Yes. You’re right.”</p>
<p>So here it was. Michaela Skellig’s testimony.</p>
<p>Phoenix flipped through his journal to find the next empty page and groaned in frustration when he couldn’t find one. Damn it. He’d have to write his notes on that testimony underneath another of the most photorealistic doodles of a human eye that he’d been able to manage.</p>
<p>He prepped his pencil for what would hopefully be the last testimony he’d have to transcribe on this entire vacation.</p>
<p>Michaela took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Back when Fatargan was a mining town,” she began, “my mother was a cleaner in the mine owner’s house. The mines cut into the painted caves the Professor came across and she decided to explore them for herself. From there, she decided to spread rumours about a supernatural force dwelling in the mountains.”</p>
<p>She wiped a tear away from her cheek.</p>
<p>“She told people the Painted King was a god,” she explained, “whose ghostly horde attacked people at night if he wasn’t worshipped. It wasn’t long before the mines were shut down and she took over the town that was left. She’s…”</p>
<p>She cut herself off when she realised she was referring to her mother in the present tense.</p>
<p>“…she had been the mayor ever since,” she continued, “and everything was fine until <em>you</em> all came along.”</p>
<p>Her last statement was shot in Layton’s direction in perhaps the least subtle way she could have managed. Phoenix decided that meant it probably wasn’t worth making a proper note about.</p>
<p>The sound of faint muttering made him look up again, and he saw the people in the gallery murmuring to one another in between glaring at Michaela in fury and betrayal.</p>
<p>“My word,” gasped the judge, “so the Professor’s summation was correct!”</p>
<p>“Of course.” Layton smiled and adjusted his hat again. “A good gentleman <em>never</em> makes an unfounded accusation.”</p>
<p>Phoenix saw Michaela throw the man another angry glare.</p>
<p>“I can’t say I appreciate your tone, Ms Skellig,” said Edgeworth, staring down his nose at her again. “You won’t do your case any justice by throwing all the responsibility onto somebody else, especially people who haven’t even been in this village for an entire week.”</p>
<p>Michaela turned her glare in his direction.</p>
<p>“My apologies,” she said flatly.</p>
<p>The backhand was almost enough to make Phoenix wince.</p>
<p>“So it really <em>was</em> Michaela’s mother who started the cult?” asked Luke, unable to tear his eyes away from Michaela. “She hasn’t done anything to downplay it, let alone deny it!”</p>
<p>“Hey, Dad?” Trucy clutched onto her father’s sleeve. “Do you think it’s possible Ms Skellig might come back and haunt us?”</p>
<p>“If she does, I’ll keep you safe,” Phoenix replied, patting the hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, okay?”</p>
<p>He ruffled her hair and she shrank back with a bashful little giggle.</p>
<p>“If the defence is ready,” the judge spoke up, “Mr Wright, you may begin your cross-examination.”</p>
<p>Phoenix gave the old man a nod.</p>
<p>“Get ready, kids,” he told his co-counsels. “I have a feeling this is going to get screwy.”</p>
<p>He took a deep breath in preparation for the madness he was no doubt about to unleash.</p>
<p>First statement was… damn. Already it was a <em>lot</em>.</p>
<p>“Let me get this straight,” he said to Michaela. “Your mother wasn’t related to anybody who ran the town, nor was she involved in running the place until way after. She was just a <em>janitor?</em>”</p>
<p>Michaela gave him a sigh of frustration.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t call her a janitor, strictly speaking,” she replied. “I think it would be more accurate to call her a housemaid. I’m sure you know the type I mean. Underpaid, underappreciated and overworked as hell.”</p>
<p>Phoenix nodded. He knew exactly what it was like to feel every single one of those things, although the ‘underpaid’ part especially stood out in his mind.</p>
<p>“Would you care to tell us the sort of duties she performed?” he asked.</p>
<p>“…well…” Michaela just shrugged. “Cleaning. Sweeping and mopping the floors, folding laundry, making beds, dusting, doing the dishes, cleaning the windows, sweeping snow off the steps… I’m sure you know the sort. Couple that with a baby daughter to care for and Mother was almost permanently exhausted.”</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Luke rubbed his chin in thought. “If Ms Skellig was fifty-two when she died and Ms Michaela is going to be thirty this year, that means her mother was around twenty-one or twenty-two when Michaela was born.”</p>
<p>“Dang,” Phoenix muttered. “And I thought twenty-six was young to become a parent!”</p>
<p>He looked round at another tug on his sleeve.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with becoming a mom or dad while you’re young?” Trucy asked. “Don’t you want to be able to, um…” She tapped her chin while she searched for the word she wanted. “…to relate with your kids? ‘Coz Daddy, you’re one of my best friends!”</p>
<p>Phoenix took a moment to rest his pencil down.</p>
<p>“It’s about mental maturity, sweetie,” he explained. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I feel way more confident about being your dad right now than I did when I first took you in, and I was <em>years</em> older than Ms Skellig was when she had Michaela.”</p>
<p>“Aww, Dad!” Trucy leaned in and hugged him around the waist, and Phoenix patted her on the head in return.</p>
<p>“To be so young and supporting a small daughter on a housemaid’s salary,” muttered Luke. “I think that would cause anybody to snap.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, no kidding,” said Phoenix. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Truce, but if I’d taken you in fresh out of law school, I think I’d somehow be even more of a mess than I am right now.”</p>
<p>Trucy tightened her squeeze around his waist, and Phoenix had to pat her on the arm to warn her that she was clutching him a little <em>too</em> tight and had to release her grip before he died right there at the bench.</p>
<p>“I’m relieved to hear that you understand, Mr Wright,” said Michaela, and Phoenix snatched his pencil back up. “Yes, Mother’s life was exhausting. I know I was very young, but I vividly remember seeing her come home and immediately collapse onto her sofa for a full hour before she made dinner.”</p>
<p>A faint smile played about her lips.</p>
<p>“Even then,” she said, “it was always something simple.”</p>
<p>The way she talked about that life… Had it really just been Angela and Michaela?</p>
<p>“You didn’t have any family supporting you?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>“N-no…” Michaela hesitantly replied. “Mother, um…”</p>
<p>She coiled her hair around her finger again.</p>
<p>“She didn’t talk about her family,” she explained. “I think she was a runaway, but she never told me anything. I can’t…”</p>
<p>She paused, the lock of platinum wrapped tight around her fingertip.</p>
<p>“I don’t even know if she had any siblings or where she came from,” she told the court, “and if you want to ask about my father, don’t bother. As far as I know, he doesn’t exist.”</p>
<p>“Oof,” Phoenix winced.</p>
<p>“But of all the places to end up,” said Luke, “why Fatargan?”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>For the second time, Edgeworth slammed his hand on the prosecutor’s bench.</p>
<p>“I think it’s important to keep the cross-examination relevant to the testimony, don’t you?” he said pointedly. “The circumstances of Ms Skellig’s arrival in Fatargan are irrelevant to the fact that she became the mastermind of some Pict-worshipping cult.”</p>
<p>He scowled as he folded his arms and tapped a finger on his elbow.</p>
<p>“All that matters is that she arrived in this village and lived a difficult life as a single mother,” he stated. “I would think that’s enough to make anybody desire something better.”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>Phoenix slammed on his own bench.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth, I’ve been raising Trucy by myself for two years already,” he pointed out, “and I haven’t been the least bit interested in inventing a whole new religion to provide for her!”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Edgeworth shouted him down. “I understand your point, Wright, but consider that your daughter was already eight years old when you took her in. You didn’t have to contend with any of the challenges that come from nursing an infant or controlling a toddler. Trucy already knew how to read, write and perform basic arithmetic.”</p>
<p>He slapped his desk and stared Phoenix down.</p>
<p>“Would YOU have been capable of teaching her that?” he demanded. “Not to mention the toilet training, feeding and caring through the night!”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>Phoenix had already slammed on his bench before he realised he didn’t actually have anything to deny Edgeworth’s argument.</p>
<p>He awkwardly rested his hands away from the tabletop.</p>
<p>“…no, I…” he said. “I don’t think I could’ve done it.”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat and tried to pretend that didn’t happen.</p>
<p>“Ms Michaela,” he said when he had recovered, “could you please clarify who your mother worked for? You say the mine owners, but I think we should know who that is in more detail.”</p>
<p>“I, um…” Michaela adjusted her glasses. “I’m afraid I don’t know.”</p>
<p>She hugged her arms again and shuffled from foot to foot.</p>
<p>“They left town and the mines were closed when I was still very small,” she explained. “I think I was around four at the time. Perhaps five. It’s difficult to remember.”</p>
<p>Still holding onto one elbow, she started playing with her hair again.</p>
<p>“All I know,” she said, “is that it was the person who was in charge of both the mine and the village that had been built to house its workers. In a climate as hostile as this, you want your workers close so that they aren’t completely exhausted before they even begin their shifts.”</p>
<p>“If I may,” the Professor spoke up, “I must say that is a mindset that makes total sense. I know I speak from a comfortable position as a university teacher, but I can’t imagine anybody wanting to live a real-life version of Capstick Comes Home.”</p>
<p>For maybe the fiftieth time that week, Phoenix got the distinct sense that he was missing out on a cultural reference that he was just too thick-headed and American to understand.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what that is,” he pointed out.</p>
<p>“I think it’s a comedy bit?” Luke suggested. “Sorry, I don’t know either.”</p>
<p>Layton frowned and lowered his hat’s brim over his eyes.</p>
<p>“They don’t know they’re born today,” he grumbled, apparently in his best Ned Stark impersonation.</p>
<p>In spite of her self-professed hatred of the man, Michaela snorted into her hand.</p>
<p>So <em>she</em> knew the reference that was being made? Phoenix felt about as lost as it was possible for a man unfamiliar with British culture to be.</p>
<p>Time to move on and just pretend like that never happened.</p>
<p>“In a place like this,” he said, “the winters must have been especially difficult while you were growing up.”</p>
<p>“They were,” Michaela replied. “That’s why Mother turned to ice sculptures to occupy her mind if she ever had free time. It was something to do with all the ice that would accumulate around Fatargan when it got cold.”</p>
<p>She looked out at the court with a gentle smile.</p>
<p>“My earliest memory is of her breaking icicles from over our windows,” she said wistfully, “so that she could carve them into ornamental keys with baking skewers and kitchen knives. The sculpting awl that you claim she used to kill Wrenkley Oldfart was…”</p>
<p>She raised her hands to her face in horror, her fingers trembling as her smile slipped away.</p>
<p>“It was from me!” she cried. “I gave it to her as a gift! It was part of a set and I’d saved up my pocket money for <em>months</em> to buy it for her when we took the bus to Aberdeen on her day off…”</p>
<p>She pressed her hands over her face, but somehow managed to hold off from breaking out into sobs again.</p>
<p>Phoenix waited for her to calm down. He didn’t dare move any closer. It took a few moments, but she pulled another tissue out of her pocket and wiped her cheeks and nose with a long, deep sniff.</p>
<p>“It sounds to me like you two had a very close and loving relationship,” he told her.</p>
<p>Tissue pressed to her face, Michaela nodded.</p>
<p>“Yes,” she said as she stuffed it back in her pocket. “Ever since I was young. She was…” She paused to wipe her eye on the back of her hand. “She did everything for me.”</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” said Edgeworth, “if you’d like to be excused to calm down and gather your thoughts, I’m sure we could allow it.”</p>
<p>“Indeed, Michaela,” added the judge. “All you need to do is say the word.”</p>
<p>Michaela tugged off her glasses and cleaned the lenses on the end of her scarf.</p>
<p>“I…” Once she was satisfied, she slipped them back on. “I think I’ll be okay.”</p>
<p>Phoenix had to remind himself that a gentleman did <em>not</em> stare, even if he was surprised by something his friend had done or said. Edgeworth, of all people, offering comfort to a grief-stricken witness? The Demon Prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth?!</p>
<p>Then again, if one were to stop and consider everything the man had been through, especially his experience with parent-related grief…</p>
<p>He made sure not to include that particular detail in his notes on the cross-examination.</p>
<p>“It almost sounds like they had a perfect mother-daughter bond,” commented Luke.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” said Phoenix, “if you leave the whole cult business aside.”</p>
<p>He drew a line under that section to mark it off and make it clear to his future self that <em>this</em> was where he was moving on to the next statement.</p>
<p>“If I’m understanding your testimony correctly, Ms Skellig,” he said, “you knew about those underground paintings from the very beginning.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Michaela replied. “That’s correct.”</p>
<p>“Did you know that the Painted King was a Pictish chief and not some ancient god?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>Michaela’s sharp intake of breath was coupled with her body freezing up. Phoenix couldn’t blame her; he’d basically asked her to admit, in front of this entire village, that she and her mother had been knowingly lying to them for the entire time they had been in this little corner of the mountains.</p>
<p>She clasped her hands in front of her chest as though she was praying.</p>
<p>And once she had summoned all the courage she needed, she spoke a single, simple word:</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>The gallery behind her erupted into unrestrained gossip, and this time, Phoenix could hear some of the phrases and remarks the villagers were tossing around and not even trying to hide from the witness they were talking about.</p>
<p>“She isn’t even trying to deny it!”</p>
<p>“Does that mean the Professor was right?”</p>
<p>“Angela was lying to us this entire time!”</p>
<p>“I thought he was just pulling stuff out of his arse, but if Michaela says it was the truth-”</p>
<p>“How dare she! I dedicated my LIFE to the Painted King!”</p>
<p>“Order!” called the judge, slamming his little toffee hammer on his lectern. “Order in the court! You are all entitled to your anger, but please, ORDER!”</p>
<p>His tapping did little to lessen the chatter. The people were outraged and court be damned, they were going to talk about it!</p>
<p>At least, they did until a second person decided to slam his hand on his bench, shocking them all into silence.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” Edgeworth said sternly, “I think you should tell the court just how much information your mother shared with you. This is vital to understanding her motivations behind starting this little cult of hers.”</p>
<p>Michaela gave him a quizzical look.</p>
<p>“Mr Edgeworth, you keep using that word,” she said innocently, “but I don’t think it means what you think it means.”</p>
<p>“Is that so?” asked Edgeworth, distinctly unamused. “I’ve always believed that it means a religion which innocent people get manipulated into for the sole purpose of benefiting only the person that began that religion. Would you like me to share some examples with you?”</p>
<p>Michaela looked away, downcast in defeat.</p>
<p>“…no,” she said meekly. “No thank you.”</p>
<p>Time to distract her before Edgeworth could get too smug.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig, did you see those paintings with your own eyes?” Phoenix asked. “Or did you rely entirely on your mother’s descriptions?”</p>
<p>“More to the point,” said Luke, “why did she decide to explore those mines in the first place? If she wasn’t any more than a maid in the boss’ household, wouldn’t that have been out of bounds for her? Was she even allowed <em>near</em> the mines?”</p>
<p>“Good call, Luke,” Phoenix whispered to his side.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Luke replied.</p>
<p>Michaela adjusted her glasses again.</p>
<p>“I don’t remember the exact date,” she confessed, “but I do recall Mother putting me to bed one night and when I woke up in the morning, it was just in time for her to come home from wherever she had been. She made my breakfast and behaved as though nothing was different, but I could tell she was very excited.”</p>
<p>She looked up, casting her mind back.</p>
<p>“She told me later that she’d overheard her boss talking about those caves and their paintings,” she explained, “and she had decided to explore during the night after all the miners had gone home.”</p>
<p>Phoenix almost dropped his pencil.</p>
<p>“Are you <em>serious?</em>” He had to force himself not to shout. “That sounds incredibly risky!”</p>
<p>“Going into a coal mine at night?” added Trucy. “That’s horrible! How did she know where she was going? What if she fell down a shaft and hurt herself?”</p>
<p>Michaela fixed them both with an almost teacherly stare.</p>
<p>“My mother was a strong woman, Mr Wright,” she told him.</p>
<p>Phoenix tried his best to avoid eye contact. His mind flashed back to the immense patch of luminol reaction he and Luke had discovered on that hallway floor.</p>
<p>“…so I’ve seen,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“If I’m understanding you correctly, Ms Skellig,” said Luke, “your mother found those paintings and explored them all by herself. She didn’t have any help from a qualified archaeologist. Did she need assistance interpreting and understanding what those paintings were trying to convey?”</p>
<p>Michaela played with her hair again as she thought.</p>
<p>“Mother knew enough about Scotland’s history to tell that the people who left those images were native,” she explained. “She knew about the Picts and the Scots and how violent they were, and as far as I know, she followed that passage all the way to its end.”</p>
<p>“If I may, Mr Wright? Mr Edgeworth?” Layton suddenly spoke up.</p>
<p>Phoenix wasn’t sure what to say. Was the Professor even allowed to speak during the cross-examination?</p>
<p>“Uh…” He looked up at Edgeworth, hoping for a response.</p>
<p>“You have something to add, Professor?” was Edgeworth’s ever-professional reply.</p>
<p>“Only a query,” said Layton. “Ms Skellig, did your mother happen upon the Painted King’s tomb, by any chance?”</p>
<p>Michaela paused just long enough to shoot another angry glance in his direction. Phoenix had to admit it; the degree to which this woman was determined to hate Layton – who only seemed interested in helping her right now – was downright impressive.</p>
<p>“Yes,” she said. “She did.”</p>
<p>The village behind her began to gossip again, although it was far more restrained than it had been before. Yet again, the voices blurred together in Phoenix’s ears and he couldn’t make out any individual people.</p>
<p>“Professor,” Edgeworth said loud enough to quiet them, “if I didn’t know any better, I would assume that you were speaking from experience. You wouldn’t happen to have found that tomb yourself, would you?”</p>
<p>“As a matter of fact,” Layton said casually, “I have.”</p>
<p>The gallery gossiped again. No doubt the idea of a man from outside Fatargan coming across their lord and saviour’s grave was downright <em>scandalous</em>.</p>
<p>“If you wish me to be more specific,” the Professor spoke up, “it’s a type of tomb known as a barrow. A large burial mound indistinguishable from a hill if you don’t see the doorway. If it pleases the court, I see no other alternative than this barrow being the Painted King’s tomb.”</p>
<p>After one more glare to her side, Michaela went back to frowning at the court.</p>
<p>“As far as I know,” she said, “what Mr Layton says is correct. Mother never saw inside that barrow, but she knew what it was and what its presence implied.”</p>
<p>“It seems to me that your mother conducted quite an amount of research before beginning this little religion of hers,” Edgeworth commented. “Would you care to tell me what role the Minstrel played in all of this?”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Phoenix shouted before he could go any further. “Mr Edgeworth, that question is not relevant to the current statement!”</p>
<p>Edgeworth tutted and sighed in annoyance.</p>
<p>“Well…”</p>
<p>Phoenix wanted to slam his head into the table.</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t tell me,” he groaned.</p>
<p>“As Mr Edgeworth said, Mr Wright,” said Michaela, “Mother conducted research into the figure she called the Painted King. She discovered evidence that he had plans for a grand celebration once they returned from their successful invasion of England. The Minstrel’s role is to provide music for the dance that never happened.”</p>
<p>She glanced at Layton again as though expecting input that didn’t come.</p>
<p>“Mother once told me,” she went on, “that once the Painted King and his horde were satisfied, they would rest in peace, but it…”</p>
<p>Her eyes briefly flew up to one of the windows.</p>
<p>“I don’t think it’s worked in the slightest.”</p>
<p>Phoenix scribbled down these details in the neatest shorthand he could manage. As far as he could tell, it lined up with what Jack had told him yesterday about how what the Minstrel did never seemed to work properly.</p>
<p>It raised an interesting question. What kind of person would the Minstrel have to be if they were going to send off the Painted King and his ghostly army for good?</p>
<p>No point asking. He had a feeling that if he did, Michaela either wouldn’t know or she’d plead the fifth.</p>
<p>Could British people even do that? Plead the fifth?</p>
<p>Never mind.</p>
<p>“So if I’m understanding everything you’ve told us so far,” he said, “these rumours your mother was spreading were true, weren’t they?”</p>
<p>“I mean…” Michaela hesitated and started playing with her hair again. “Yes, as far as I know, they were.”</p>
<p>For just a moment, Phoenix found himself thinking about his magatama again, and how its subtle glow had seemed a little brighter ever since he’d accidentally dropped it in the Sacred Well.</p>
<p>“Was the Sacred Well part of these rumours?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Not yet,” Michaela replied, “but she had her suspicions about it. She knew there was something special about that water. I’ve never been able to understand it. I think…”</p>
<p>She frowned, yet again fiddling with her glasses.</p>
<p>“The only way I can put it is that it just…” Seemed like she was having trouble with the wording. “…it has an effect on people. It makes them <em>see</em> things.”</p>
<p>“May I add that this only furthers my theory,” Layton spoke up, “of the haunting being the result of some hallucinogenic property? I would even hypothesise that it blends impeccably with the theory of suggestion. I know that further testing would be required, but for now, they lend themselves to one-another almost perfectly.”</p>
<p>Michaela’s fist clenched around the lock of hair she’d kept playing with.</p>
<p>“Mr Layton,” she snarled, “may <em>I</em> add that you need to shut your mouth before <em>I</em> go on trial for <em>your</em> murder?”</p>
<p>“What I’d like to know,” Phoenix interjected before his friend got slaughtered on the stand, “is if your mother knew these rumours were true, or if she was just bluffing.”</p>
<p>His ears picked up the distinct sound of Edgeworth tutting again.</p>
<p>“And of course, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Wright?” he asked with a smarmy grin. “I would think it’s quite obvious that Ms Skellig was bluffing her murderous little heart out.”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Luke yelled before Phoenix had a chance to think of a response. “The prosecution will refrain from making such cruel comments about the victim!”</p>
<p>“Objection sustained,” added the judge. “Watch your tone, Mr Edgeworth.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth just sighed and rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“Again, good call, Luke,” muttered Phoenix. “We don’t want Michaela getting more upset than she already is.”</p>
<p>“What if she starts crying again?” asked Trucy.</p>
<p>All Phoenix could think of to do was shrug.</p>
<p>“We supply her with tissues and wait for her to calm down,” he suggested. “I doubt she’d let any of us give her a hug. Not even you, Trucy-Goosy.”</p>
<p>Trucy responded with her most dramatic pout of disappointment.</p>
<p>“Mother spent all her money on food and housing for the two of us,” Michaela explained. “She barely had enough left over to pay the bills, so rather than filling the bath with the taps, she would fetch water from the Sacred Well and boil it for us to use. Because of that, I’ve <em>always</em> seen the spirits that wander around this village at night.”</p>
<p>She tossed yet another furious glance in Layton’s direction.</p>
<p>“I can’t think of any other explanation,” she said bitterly. “I know they’re real! Not only that, but everybody else in the village can see them too!”</p>
<p>Phoenix heard Edgeworth scoff.</p>
<p>“Can they now?” the prosecutor asked.</p>
<p>“Yes, they can!” Michaela snapped. “I’ll show you. Your Honour, if I may?”</p>
<p>The judge took a moment to think.</p>
<p>“I know I barred the gallery from interfering in this trial,” he said, “but in this instance, I’ll allow it.”</p>
<p>Michaela nodded and spun on her heels to face the gallery.</p>
<p>“Could everybody able to see the Painted King’s horde please put up their hands for the whole court to see?” she asked.</p>
<p>It took a few moments of hesitation and nervous glancing around at each other, but as soon as Jack thrust her hand into the air, every last person seated in the gallery followed suit, putting their hands up as if they were a class of students being asked if anyone wanted a slice of cake.</p>
<p>Michaela turned back to the rest of the court with a satisfied smirk.</p>
<p>“The witness rests, Your Honour,” she said proudly.</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” shouted Edgeworth. “You can’t do that! You are a <em>witness!</em> Witnesses don’t get to decide when their cross-examination comes to an end!”</p>
<p>He sighed and rubbed his face in exasperation.</p>
<p>“Please proceed, Wright,” he groaned. “The more we can get out of this woman, the better.”</p>
<p>Phoenix thought back to the things Luke and Layton had told him about being able to see this horde.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Edgeworth,” he said. “Ms Skellig, on our first day in this village, the Professor and Luke were given a stone by a strange young boy.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you must be talking about little Tim Chanter,” Michaela replied with a fond little smile. “He likes to collect stones from around the Well that’ve had holes eroded in them by the water, and he gives them to anyone he hasn’t seen in this village before.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Edgeworth said curiously. “I can’t recall being supplied with such a stone when I first arrived.”</p>
<p>“Did you happen to encounter a small boy playing in the dirt?” asked Layton.</p>
<p>Edgeworth tapped his finger on his arm, processing the detail he’d just been filled in on.</p>
<p>“I don’t think so,” he eventually replied.</p>
<p>“That would explain it,” said Layton. “You never had a chance to meet him.”</p>
<p>“So let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Phoenix said to steer the conversation back to the right topic. “You and your mother knew the village was haunted, but you were the only ones who could see them? I assume everybody else could afford to pay their water bills on time.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Mr Wright,” Michaela said. “You’re correct. As far as I know, she was the only maid on her employer’s payroll who had a small child to raise.”</p>
<p>Phoenix made sure he had that noted down in his journal. Whether or not it would end up being important wasn’t something he could comment on right now, but it was worth hanging onto just in case.</p>
<p>He tried to form the picture in his mind. Twenty-something Angela Skellig, carrying bucketloads of water back to her home and boiling them, either over a fire or in a kettle, so that she could make sure her daughter stayed clean and healthy. How many trips back and forth would it have taken? Were there any days when it was so cold, she couldn’t even step outside? When she risked her water bill by running the bath from the tap?</p>
<p>He looked to his side at the little girl standing by his arm.</p>
<p>All those contingency plans <em>he </em>had laid out suddenly came flooding into his mind. The plans that they could shower at a public pool or at a gym if he ever had the water shut off for both his apartment <em>and</em> his office at the same time. All the take-out he’d ordered over the past two years because the only thing he was genuinely good at cooking was bread. Wishing he had a driver’s license so that he didn’t have to ride the bus home with her at 10pm and suffer through other passengers staring at him in disgust.</p>
<p>He could happily say that he would do anything for Trucy.</p>
<p>But it seemed like Angela really was willing to do <em>anything</em> for Michaela.</p>
<p>Even if it meant she had to torture the minds of everybody around her.</p>
<p>Time to keep going, even though he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like anything he was about to get told.</p>
<p>“This is where things start to get questionable,” he said. “How did your mother figure out everything she needed to start up this cult of hers? The Minstrel, staying indoors at night, the Silver Violin, all that stuff?”</p>
<p>“As I said,” said Michaela, “my mother conducted extensive research on the local area after she found those paintings. I have vivid memories of her opening up books every night after our dinner, finding out all about the tribe that lived here, comparing what she found in the books to what she saw in these hills…”</p>
<p>She trailed off into another wistful smile.</p>
<p>“If I may, Ms Skellig,” Layton spoke up, “I would say that a mind like hers was wasted on janitorial and political duty. She would have made quite a formidable archaeologist if she’d ever had the chance.”</p>
<p>Amazingly, Michaela continued smiling, even though it was the hated Professor who had made that comment about her mother.</p>
<p>“Yes,” she said softly. “I suppose she would.”</p>
<p>She took a moment to pull herself back together.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, staying indoors at night just seemed natural,” she explained. “That was when the horde would always come out and they would attack anybody who was outside unless there was music playing. It was my mother who arranged for the Silver Violin’s creation, as she theorised that a product of the supernatural would be the best weapon against it.”</p>
<p>“Fighting fire with fire, huh?” Phoenix smiled. “Smart move.”</p>
<p>“But why the Pictish Shrine?” asked Luke. “Why would the violin have to be played from the top of a mountain? Wouldn’t it be enough to just do it in the middle of the village? Or from the top of the bell tower!”</p>
<p>“That’s a decent idea, young man,” Edgeworth responded before Michaela had a chance, “but having spent a month performing that role, I think I have a rough estimation for the Pictish Shrine’s purpose for location.”</p>
<p>He looked over at Phoenix, who gave him a shrug.</p>
<p>“Fire away, Edgeworth,” he said.</p>
<p>“Wright,” said Edgeworth, “I’d like you to shout something to me.”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but stare at him.</p>
<p>“Anything you’d like,” Edgeworth added. “Keep your hands away from your face and shout as loud as you please.”</p>
<p>Still baffled, Phoenix could only blink.</p>
<p>“You want me to yell at you?” he asked, just to make sure he wasn’t mishearing.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Edgeworth replied. “Yell anything you’d like, so long as you keep your hands where they are.”</p>
<p>Even though he had no idea what help this would be, Phoenix rested his journal and pencil on the desk and propped his hands on either side of them.</p>
<p>“Okay, um…”</p>
<p>Thank goodness he already had the perfect thing in mind.</p>
<p>He took a deep breath and screamed at the top of his lungs:</p>
<p>“NERD!”</p>
<p>The court was silent when he had finished. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room flying between him and Edgeworth, desperately trying to work out what the heck was going on and what Edgeworth was trying to prove.</p>
<p>Edgeworth, for his part, just looked resigned.</p>
<p>“Not quite what I had hoped for,” he said, “but thank you. Now I’d like you to do the same thing, but cup your hands around your mouth when you shout.”</p>
<p>Oh, so <em>that</em> was what he was doing, was it?</p>
<p>Phoenix obediently took another deep breath and cupped his fingers around his mouth before screaming yet again:</p>
<p>“<strong><em>NERD!</em></strong>”</p>
<p>From by his side, he heard the distinct sound of Luke sniggering into his fingers and Trucy’s high-pitched giggling.</p>
<p>“Daddy, that’s so mean!” she squeaked.</p>
<p>“He’s my best friend,” Phoenix reasoned, “so I’m allowed to call him a nerd.”</p>
<p>He was surprised to see that Edgeworth actually wasn’t glaring at him with the masses of ferocity he had expected. Just the usual annoyance he had on reserve for when Phoenix felt like being a butt to him.</p>
<p>“Did everybody notice that?” he asked. “Did everybody hear what I’m talking about?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Mr Edgeworth,” Layton said. “I believe we did.”</p>
<p>He peered around the courtroom to check that everybody was listening.</p>
<p>“For those who don’t quite understand,” he said, “the Pictish Shrine’s location is optimal for doing something that everybody in the village must be able to hear. The cave it stands at the mouth of acts as an echo chamber, meaning that the sound is bounced around, amplified and projected far further and at a much higher volume than it otherwise would be. What Mr Edgeworth had Mr Wright demonstrate was the same thing on a smaller scale.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth gave the man a nod.</p>
<p>“Is that correct, Ms Skellig?” he asked.</p>
<p>Michaela looked between them both, no doubt worried they were going to start screaming again.</p>
<p>“As far as I know, yes,” she agreed. “As for the spirits attacking people, I’m sure you understand how easy that would be to prove. All you’d have to do is go out and bother one and…”</p>
<p>She frowned in discomfort.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m sure the court would understand if I didn’t go into detail,” she stated.</p>
<p>A sharp sting in Phoenix’s abdomen caused his hand to wander over to his left side, and he traced his fingertip along the length of the scratches that had been carved into his skin the night before. It was a miracle that they hadn’t somehow been reopened while he was sleeping, not that he was going to complain about <em>not</em> waking up on a bloodstained mattress.</p>
<p>He made a note about the amplifier cave. Again, he didn’t know if it would end up being helpful, but it was worth keeping in mind if he ever needed to refer back to it.</p>
<p>As for the other tunnels that networked through the mountains…</p>
<p>“Was it your mother’s fault the mines were closed?” he asked, although he didn’t know how necessary that question really was.</p>
<p>“Much as I hate to admit it,” said Michaela, “yes. She wasn’t direct about it, but yes.”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t direct about it?” Luke echoed. “What do you mean? I thought she was the one who was running the whole thing right from the start!”</p>
<p>“Oh no, she was!” Michaela insisted. “She absolutely was! What I mean by that is that she didn’t tell her bosses directly about everything she had conceived about the Painted King. They would never have believed the word of a lowly housemaid, least of all one who was a single mother.”</p>
<p>“What trick did she use?” asked Trucy. “Did she make them disappear?”</p>
<p>Michaela fiddled with her hair again, looking around in thought.</p>
<p>“In a sense,” she replied. “Like I said, she didn’t tell her <em>boss</em>.”</p>
<p>The way she emphasised that last word was more than enough to indicate what she was hinting at.</p>
<p>“So who did she tell?” Phoenix asked.</p>
<p>Michaela paused in her fiddling to adjust her glasses.</p>
<p>“Pretty much anybody who would listen,” she explained. “Anybody who would be willing to believe her. Most of them were miners and colleagues who were just as tired of being worked to the bone as she was. Tired of their pay being kept as low as possible and their taxes, bills and house prices constantly getting hiked.”</p>
<p>She looked over her shoulder at the gallery.</p>
<p>“Is that not correct?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Yeah!” shouted one villager.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig set us free!” added another.</p>
<p>“Shutting down the mines cleared up my black lung!” yelled a third.</p>
<p>Phoenix waited for this latest hubbub to die down.</p>
<p>“Should’ve realised some of those miners didn’t go home,” he commented, mostly to himself.</p>
<p>“Many of them did,” Michaela told him. “This used to be a thriving village of almost three hundred, but now…”</p>
<p>She held up her hands, gesturing to the people behind her.</p>
<p>“We’re all that’s left,” she stated simply. “That’s what my mother’s trick was, young lady. A blend of hysteria and mob mentality.”</p>
<p>Trucy shrank back behind Phoenix’s body again.</p>
<p>“I wish I never asked,” she said quietly.</p>
<p>Phoenix shuffled so that his torso formed a wall between his daughter and the witness stand.</p>
<p>So that was why the people of Fatargan were so incredibly loyal to the Skelligs. If everything he’d heard about coal mines was accurate, it was no wonder they were so happy for those mines to be shut down. Not only that, but he’d heard rumours about how miners were treated back when all of this was happening.</p>
<p>Twenty-something years ago… that would be the late nineties, but judging by how old a lot of these people were, he wouldn’t have been surprised if many of them were working long before then, throughout the seventies and eighties.</p>
<p>If Phoenix had been asked, he wouldn’t have been able to put his finger on anything specific, but he definitely knew enough to know that being a coal miner in that period was probably the worst profession that anybody could have ended up being paid for.</p>
<p>No wonder Angela’s rise to power had been so straightforward.</p>
<p>But that wasn’t everything, was it? There were still more blanks he had to fill in before he could call this cross-examination finished.</p>
<p>“There’s something I can’t help wondering,” he said, “and I’m sure my opponent must be thinking the same thing. Was your mother the one who decided who would play the role of the Minstrel?”</p>
<p>“No, she wasn’t,” Michaela almost instantly replied. “She only accepted people who volunteered for it.”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>To nobody’s surprise, least of all Phoenix, Edgeworth slammed on his desk again. He somehow looked even more furious than he had at any point before now.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, witness,” he said, “but that simply is <em>not</em> correct. Speaking as a man who played that role, I can safely say that I wasn’t a willing volunteer in any sense of the word.”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!” Michaela screamed. “Then why did Mother tell me, in detail, how happy you were to play for the village and keep us safe?”</p>
<p>Phoenix winced in embarrassment.</p>
<p>“Wow,” muttered Luke, “how deep in denial <em>is </em>this lady?”</p>
<p>Flipping back to his evidence list, Phoenix had to fight himself. This was for the best. This was for the good of not just Michaela, but the entirety of Fatargan. It was going to hurt her, but by the time all this was over, she was going to be fine.</p>
<p>This was the best thing he could do.</p>
<p><em>It was for her own good</em>.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Ms Skellig,” he said, “but I have evidence to suggest that Mr Edgeworth was not acting as the Minstrel by his own will.”</p>
<p>“Do you?” snapped Michaela. “Well, come on, then! Show me this evidence you think you have!”</p>
<p>Phoenix glanced up at the gallery. For the briefest of moments, his eyes met Jack’s, and she was staring at him in wide-eyed terror.</p>
<p>It was for the good of the entire village, he told himself again.</p>
<p>“I have here a testimony from a citizen of Fatargan,” he told Michaela, “who I assume would prefer to remain anonymous. Her testimony was quite detailed, but allow me to provide a summary of what she told me.”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat to drown out the sound of Jack sighing in relief.</p>
<p>“I helped keep Mr Edgeworth captive under Mayor Skellig’s orders,” he read. “She’s the one who made him the Minstrel.”</p>
<p>“What?!” Michaela spat in horror.</p>
<p>The people behind her leaned over and gossiped into each other’s ears. Many of them threw harsh looks in Michaela’s direction and looks of sympathy towards Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“Order!” The judge slammed his toffee hammer as hard as he could. “Heaven’s sake, I WILL have ORDER!”</p>
<p>He slammed it over and over, every hit like a nail in Phoenix’s ear, until the chatter finally died away.</p>
<p>“What does this mean, Mr Wright?” he asked. “What is this person saying when they tell you they kept Mr Edgeworth captive?”</p>
<p>“Exactly what it sounds like, Your Honour,” Edgeworth spoke up before Phoenix had a chance. “I was not, in any sense, willing to climb up a mountain every single night to play some poxy little violin. Even if I was a native of this town, I wouldn’t be willing to do that. You’d have to force me at gunpoint or threaten my family or, as your mother did, Ms Skellig, push my car into a gorge and promise to have it retrieved if I did as she requested.”</p>
<p>“You’re <em>lying!</em>” Michaela shouted. “You were more than happy to play for the Painted King! Mother told me so herself! She said you <em>leapt</em> at the chance!”</p>
<p>“I’m sure she told you any number of lies about me and everybody else from outside this village,” Edgeworth said harshly, “so that you wouldn’t think anything of my situation, but I think I know the circumstances of my being in Fatargan in far more accurate detail than you do!”</p>
<p>He slammed his hand on the table, and this time, Michaela flinched at the sound.</p>
<p>“If you were to go down into that gorge,” he said, “you’ll very clearly see my car half-buried in the snow, and I promise it wasn’t me who put it there!”</p>
<p>Michaela stared at him, gasping and stammering nonsense syllables in her fruitless search for a retort.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” said the man standing beside her.</p>
<p>“What now?!” she snapped.</p>
<p>Layton remained impassive. Phoenix felt seriously impressed by now; he was going to <em>have</em> to ask this guy for tips on his poker face once all of this was over.</p>
<p>“Do you recall several days ago?” the Professor asked the current witness. “Just after Dr Wallace’s trial, when your mother called Phoenix and I to speak to her.”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course I remember!” Michaela replied.</p>
<p>Layton reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope he’d kept by his side for the entire time he and Phoenix had been together.</p>
<p>“I presented her with the details I have about Mr Edgeworth,” he explained, “and his disappearance from the wider world. She told me, to my face, that he looked unfamiliar.”</p>
<p>“She said,” Phoenix added, “and I quote, ‘his is a face that I haven’t seen at all in the past few weeks, nor is that a name I’ve heard spoken anywhere in our village’. Cleverly worded, but she all but outright said that she’d never seen him.”</p>
<p>Thinking back on her wording, it didn’t quite feel so surprising that she hadn’t brought up any Psyche-Locks.</p>
<p>“If it wasn’t for how she’d phrased it,” he said, “I might even have trusted her, if only for about a minute.”</p>
<p>“But that doesn’t make any sense!” cried Michaela. “Why would she lie like that?!”</p>
<p>“You tell me,” said Phoenix. “You’re the one whose hallway floor was drenched in blood.”</p>
<p>“Stop it!” Michaela slapped her hands over her ears and screwed her eyes shut. “Shut up! She was my <em>mother!</em> She didn’t kidnap anyone! She didn’t <em>kill</em> anyone! Everything she did was for the good of Fatargan and its people!”</p>
<p>Edgeworth slammed on his desk again.</p>
<p>“Then why did she kill one of its citizens?” he demanded.</p>
<p>“SHUT UP!” Michaela screamed.</p>
<p>Phoenix swallowed at the sight of the grief-stricken woman breaking down on the stand. As far as he could see, there was only one thing he could do that could both calm her down and drag her kicking and screaming into reality.</p>
<p>“Hey, Luke?” he whispered.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” Luke responded. “What is it?”</p>
<p>“Do you have Ms Skellig’s journal?” he asked. “The one we found in the safe?”</p>
<p>“Oh, um, yes!” Luke dug into his satchel. “Yeah, I do, one moment.”</p>
<p>He pulled out the book and held it out to Phoenix.</p>
<p>“Here,” he said. “Best of luck.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, I’ll need it,” said Phoenix as he accepted it, and then he turned back to the witness stand. “Michaela?”</p>
<p>“What now?” snapped Michaela. “Don’t you DARE lie about my mother again!”</p>
<p>“As I already said,” Phoenix continued as calmly as he could, “one of the items I found in your mother’s safe was what appeared to be her personal diary.”</p>
<p>He held it up so that she could see it.</p>
<p>“It dates back to before you were born,” he explained. “I think we can learn a lot about your mother’s psychology if we take a look at what she’d written in here.”</p>
<p>Michaela stared at him, eyes widening in horror.</p>
<p>“You want to read my mother’s diary?!” she exclaimed.</p>
<p>“No, Ms Skellig,” Phoenix responded.</p>
<p>He stepped out from behind the defence’s bench and slowly, cautiously, approached the witness stand with the journal in his hands.</p>
<p>“I want <em>you</em> to read your mother’s diary,” he told Michaela, and he held it out for her to take. “I want you to read it aloud to the court.”</p>
<p>Michaela stared at the book. Anybody less the wiser would have thought Phoenix was presenting her with a box of weapons-grade plutonium, at least until she looked back up at him and eyed him with a puzzled frown.</p>
<p>“…you… but…” she stammered. “…but why?”</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” said Layton, “if we truly wish to understand your mother’s death, it would be best if we were to first understand her life. The <em>truth</em> about her life, far beyond what you already told us. Her mind and her memories in <em>her</em> words.”</p>
<p>He looked up at her, dark eyes glittering with sympathy.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you want to understand your mother far more than we do,” he told her. “Would you be willing to read her thoughts to the court?”</p>
<p>Michaela’s fingers trembled, one hand halfway to the lock of platinum that hung over her shoulder.</p>
<p>Phoenix stood in place, watched by the entirety of the village of Fatargan, holding out the journal for her to take.</p>
<p>She looked all around the court, clearly searching for support, advice or <em>someone</em> to tell her what she could do. The poor woman looked completely and totally lost, and Phoenix held off from trying to offer her reassurance.</p>
<p>She should have understood by now. The only person it made sense to do this was her.</p>
<p>Although her movements were slow, stiff and hesitant, she reached down to Phoenix’s hands and lifted the journal out of his fingers.</p>
<p>Phoenix waited until she held it, cradling it in her fingers and reverently stroking its surface, before he returned to behind his bench and Trucy hid in the shadow of his body again. Luke gave him a nervous glance before looking back to the witness stand.</p>
<p>“Just start wherever you feel comfortable, Michaela,” Phoenix said. “You don’t need to go all the way back to the beginning.”</p>
<p>He watched, wracked by just as much anticipation as the rest of the court, as Michaela slowly lifted the journal’s cover aside.</p>
<p>She flipped through the pages, staring at her mother’s handwriting, until she finally stopped around a quarter of the way through.</p>
<p>“Okay, I…” She glanced up at Phoenix. “This one is dated when I was two years old.”</p>
<p>She took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“’Another exhausting day at work’,” she read. “’Boss says I didn’t clean the windows properly. I know I did. Water froze on the glass midway through cleaning and what he’s seeing is frost. Demanded I clean it off. Won’t listen to me when I say it’ll go away when the sun comes out. Rubbish. Looking forward to the day I can…’”</p>
<p>She gasped in horror.</p>
<p>“’…can get rid of the bastard’,” she continued. “’Just need to figure out how. If it wasn’t for Michi, I would’ve thrown myself into the gorge long ago. Almost wish I could’ve had a fit to take the day off sick’.”</p>
<p>She froze. Whether she had reached the end of the page or just didn’t want to keep going, Phoenix couldn’t tell.</p>
<p>“Get rid of the…” he heard Trucy say behind him. “She already wanted him gone?”</p>
<p>“Sounds like it was something she was planning for a <em>long</em> time,” commented Luke.</p>
<p>Michaela flipped between pages as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.</p>
<p>“I…” Her frown deepened even further. “I don’t…”</p>
<p>She flipped wildly through the diary until she found a page she was satisfied with.</p>
<p>“This one’s from a year later,” she told the court. “’Overheard boss talking about ancient cave art and went to have a look once the lights were out. Found evidence of a settlement dating back hundreds of years. Potential Celtic or Pictish settlement. A tribe that conquered and attacked for expanding land and power. Wish I could’ve…’”</p>
<p>She trailed off again, struggling to understand what she was reading.</p>
<p>“’Wish I could’ve known them’,” she read. “’Wish I could’ve been part of them. I know I deserve more than sweeping and mopping and cleaning sick off my clothes. Wish I could give Michi a better life. Followed the cave to its end and found a tomb. Haven’t told anyone. Wouldn’t know where to start’.”</p>
<p>She looked up at the court again, still looking for help.</p>
<p>“That’s when she found the Painted King,” Phoenix muttered to himself.</p>
<p>Again, Michaela tossed diary pages aside until she found an entry she felt comfortable enough to read.</p>
<p>“’Bathed Michi again today’,” she continued. “’Keep seeing strange people in the street, but none of my colleagues see them. None of the miners see them either. I know they're all there. I hear them talking. I hear them screaming. They hammer on my door during the night. One of them tried to crawl through my window. I think Michi saw them too. She kept pointing at the window and crying’.”</p>
<p>Michaela froze again. Whether or not she remembered what her mother was describing here, she didn’t say, but the horror she felt was written all over her face.</p>
<p>“’Can’t…’” She gasped, struggling to maintain her professional demeanour. “’Can’t help wondering if I triggered some kind of curse by going through that cave. I want to know what they want. Tried playing one of my records last night and seemed to make it back off. Need some way to control this. I'm not crazy. I KNOW I'm not crazy. There has to be some way I can get other people to see them too’.”</p>
<p>Her jaw fell slack as she frowned at the page as though she was struggling to figure out what to think.</p>
<p>“If I may,” Layton spoke up, “most instances of ancient curses are, in truth, bacteria that were sheltering in isolated locations. If you were to break open a tomb and inhale air that was thousands of years old – or indeed, enter a long-abandoned cave – you would expect it to affect you negatively, would you not?”</p>
<p>Michaela ignored him as she settled on the next page she wanted to read.</p>
<p>“’Told Posy about the people walking around in the streets’,” she read, “’and she said she can see them too. She spoke to some of the miners and they said they can see them as well now. I didn’t tell them about the cave. Didn’t tell them about the paintings I saw and the people who lived in this area long ago. Don’t know how much I want them to know yet. Feel like this might finally be my chance. Might finally get what I need’.”</p>
<p>She flipped through two more pages.</p>
<p>“’Felt like I might have a seizure’,” she read. “’Took meds just in case. Don't want to break a five year streak. Miners went on strike today. Wanted to know what's going on with the night people. I lied. Told them they were the soldiers of the Painted King, because the chief in the paintings was a man with war paint. No idea who he actually was but it's enough. Might see if I can convince...'”</p>
<p>Her jaw dropped again and she almost staggered back in shock.</p>
<p>“Michaela?” prompted the judge.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath, unable to rip her eyes away from the page.</p>
<p>“’…if I can convince one of them to smash the boss’ big fat face in with his pickaxe’,” she recited. “’God knows the barrel-bellied bastard’s got it coming’.”</p>
<p>She looked up at the court again, now well and truly lost.</p>
<p>“My word!” gasped the judge.</p>
<p>“I…” Michaela’s eyes were wild with fear as she frantically flipped through the pages again. “…I don’t…”</p>
<p>Her breath caught in her throat as she finally chose her next page to read.</p>
<p>“’One of the old miners, said his name was Percy, started asking questions about the Painted King earlier this week’,” she read. “’Asking people where he came from and what he wanted with us. They pointed him my way and he asked me if I'd ever actually seen the Painted King with my own two eyes, so I had to tell him the Painted King is too powerful to simply walk on the earth. If he tried, his raw energy would annihilate us all. Not the best, but it was the first thing that came to me. Percy still wouldn't shut up, so I told him I'd meet him on the bridge into town when the sun was setting and I'd tell him everything. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth’.”</p>
<p>Fresh tears were brimming in her eyes.</p>
<p>“’I waited until he got there’,” she said, “’and gave him what he deserved. He never heard me coming. The look on his face when…’”</p>
<p>She took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“’…when I tipped him over the railing was really strange’,” she continued. “’Part of me is glad I was the last thing he ever saw. One less person to get in my way. I won’t let anything impede Michi’s future’.”</p>
<p>She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and struggled to maintain her breath.</p>
<p>“…she…” she gasped. “She did all of this for me?!”</p>
<p>“It certainly sounds that way,” Layton told her.</p>
<p>Behind her, the gallery began to buzz again.</p>
<p>“So <em>that’s</em> what happened to old Percival?”</p>
<p>“Angela told me he’d called a cab and left for Glasgow!”</p>
<p>“Do you think he’s still down there?”</p>
<p>“Oh no, is he still down there in the gorge?!”</p>
<p>Michaela kept flicking through the diary, staring at the pages in terrified disgust.</p>
<p>“I…” she gasped. “…why would…”</p>
<p>She slammed the diary closed and slapped it onto the table in front of her, struggling to breathe and staring at its cover.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand!” she cried. “Why would Mother have lied to me for all this time? How could she? What was she even trying to do?! Everything I ever did was to make her happy! Is that all she wanted?! How could she...”</p>
<p>The tears trickled from her eyes down the length of her nose and dripped onto the diary.</p>
<p>“From the sound of things,” Phoenix said, “she really did want the best for you, no matter what she had to do to steer things in the direction she wanted.”</p>
<p>Michaela’s breath hitched again. Her sobs were soft and quiet.</p>
<p>“…my mother…” she choked. “…was a murderer… a manipulative <em>killer</em>…”</p>
<p>She wiped her eyes again, knocking her glasses off her face, and struggled desperately to stay breathing.</p>
<p>Beside her, Layton solemnly lowered his head, holding his hat’s brim down over his eyes.</p>
<p>“Whatever hallucinogenic property is in that water,” he said, “I recommend it be dealt with immediately. We cannot allow this madness to continue.”</p>
<p>“I agree wholeheartedly,” said Edgeworth. “I believe-”</p>
<p>“HOLD IT!”</p>
<p>Layton froze.</p>
<p>Edgeworth fell silent and stared in shock.</p>
<p>The judge stared in bafflement at the source of the shout.</p>
<p>Phoenix watched, practically numb from confusion, as Dr Wallace walked past the witness stand and right into the middle of the courtroom.</p>
<p>He stopped, one hand in his pocket and the other hugging his bonsai, and looked around as if checking that all the attention in the room was firmly on him.</p>
<p>“Do you mind, Doctor?” Edgeworth complained. “We’re in the middle of a cross-examination here!”</p>
<p>“I know,” said Dr Wallace, “and I request the court’s forgiveness for this intrusion, but there’s a misconception I <em>have</em> to clear up before it starts causing real damage.”</p>
<p>He turned his olive-coloured glare to the witness stand.</p>
<p>“Mr Layton?” he said.</p>
<p>“How may I help you, Dr Wallace?” asked Layton.</p>
<p>The doctor paused just long enough to give a meaningful if hard-to-interpret glance in Phoenix’s direction.</p>
<p>“On my first day in Fatargan,” he told the court, “I took a sample of water from the Sacred Well. I’d heard rumours about it before I came here and I wanted to see what sort of chemical make-up that water had. Like you’ve been suggesting, I wanted to see if there was anything in there which <em>shouldn’t</em> be.”</p>
<p>Layton smiled in expectation.</p>
<p>“And what did you find?” he asked.</p>
<p>Dr Wallace gave him a curious look, almost as if he didn’t know what the guy was talking about.</p>
<p>He adjusted his grip on his bonsai pot before he spoke.</p>
<p>“Nothing.”</p>
<p>In a flash, Layton’s smile was gone.</p>
<p>“What?” he gasped.</p>
<p>“What?!” spluttered Luke.</p>
<p>“Are you kidding?!” cried Trucy.</p>
<p>“<em>Nothing</em> in the water?” Phoenix demanded.</p>
<p>“Nothing whatsoever,” Dr Wallace replied. “Just the usual pond algae and particles of silicate you’d expect from a mountain spring. A bit of fish poo, but that was it. Everything aside from that is just two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen. In other words, plain fresh water.”</p>
<p>Phoenix had no idea what he was supposed to say anymore.</p>
<p>“Is this a <em>joke?</em>” Edgeworth almost yelled.</p>
<p>“No.” Michaela sniffed hard and slipped her glasses back on. “No, it isn’t.”</p>
<p>She looked around the court at all the people who had, up until then, believed there <em>must</em> have been some rational mortal explanation for what they had seen in this place.</p>
<p>“I’ve been telling you all along, haven’t I?” she asked. “The Sacred Well is special. Like its name suggests, it’s <em>sacred</em>.”</p>
<p>Somewhere in the back of his mind, Phoenix felt relieved. As far as he knew, this proved everything Jack had told him and everything he had suspected about this so-called Well, and not only that, but it proved that he was right too. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t seeing things at all.</p>
<p>Unless the Professor could come up with something else, the most logical explanation was that this region really was as haunted as he’d thought.</p>
<p>All those people wandering around in the streets, hurling themselves at the doors and windows last night, so hard that the glass and wood rattled under the force…</p>
<p>“…but…”</p>
<p>The Professor, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be handling the revelation anywhere near as well.</p>
<p>“…but everything I’ve heard points to there being something in that water…” he muttered, staring emptily at the floor and struggling to think. “…perhaps some ancient…”</p>
<p>His eyes darted this way and that, feverishly searching for some other explanation.</p>
<p>“…and if those stones really are just stones,” he said, “then it doesn’t make any sense that a hologram would be visible through it… what could.”</p>
<p>Phoenix cleared his throat to gain attention. He <em>had</em> to do something. By now he just felt sorry for the poor guy.</p>
<p>“I know you won’t believe me, Hershel,” he said, “but I have a different suggestion.”</p>
<p>Layton sighed.</p>
<p>“Whatever you propose, Phoenix,” he replied, “I’m willing to listen.”</p>
<p>Phoenix reached into his pocket and pulled out the magatama, and held it up above his head for the entire court to see.</p>
<p>“You see this?” he called to them all.</p>
<p>Immediately the gallery began to buzz again.</p>
<p>“Whoa, what is that?”</p>
<p>“It looks like a green star!”</p>
<p>“It’s glowing! Mummy, look! That gem is glowing!”</p>
<p>Phoenix lowered his arm, holding the magatama just high enough for Layton to see it clearly.</p>
<p>“Allow me to explain this to the court,” he said. “This amulet is called a magatama. It’s infused with intense spiritual power from a long line of locally renowned spirit mediums from near where I live. As far as I know, its energy doesn’t last forever. Sooner or later, it’ll need recharging.”</p>
<p>He slipped it back into his pocket for safekeeping.</p>
<p>“Yesterday I dropped it in the Sacred Well,” he explained. “You guys said you can see it glowing? So can I. And since I dropped it in that water, it’s been glowing brighter than it was before.”</p>
<p>Layton frowned at him, still as confused as he had been before.</p>
<p>“…but…” he said weakly.</p>
<p>Phoenix shook his head. No matter what reasoning the Professor tried to come up with, this was the only justification that made any sense.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Hershel,” he said. “I know you like there to be a rational explanation for everything, but the most rational explanation I can think of is that the Sacred Well is a location of <em>massive</em> spiritual significance. Not only that, but Fatargan is about as haunted as it’s possible for an isolated British village to be.”</p>
<p>Michaela suddenly gasped.</p>
<p>“And no wonder this region is so thoroughly haunted!” she exclaimed. “Something like the Sacred Well would be a magnet for those who are wandering lost!”</p>
<p>“I knew it,” Luke said, just as numb and resigned as the Professor. “I knew it right from the start. I knew there was something weird about this village. When I looked through that stone on my first night here, I knew that couldn’t have been a trick of the light!”</p>
<p>“Speak for yourself!” Trucy said angrily. “I knew ghosts were real ever since I met the girl who first gave Daddy’s magatama its power!”</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>Edgeworth was slumped over his bench, supporting himself on his fists and grimacing across the room.</p>
<p>“Damn it all, Wright!” he groaned. “I didn’t want to believe this! I didn’t want to believe this place was actually honest-to-god <em>haunted!</em> But you just HAD to expose me to all that Fey family madness, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“Hey, don’t blame me!” Phoenix argued back. “Blame Dr Wallace! He was the one who tested that water!”</p>
<p>He looked to Layton again.</p>
<p>“Professor, listen to me!” he tried not to shout. “If these really are hallucinations coming from the Sacred Well, what sense does it make that you, Luke and Trucy could see the spirits too? Yeah, you have to use stones, but none of you guys have been in Fatargan long enough to be affected, right?”</p>
<p>“Order!” The judge slammed his gavel again. “Order in the court! This is all highly irregular!”</p>
<p>He sighed in exasperation.</p>
<p>“Let us not forget why we’re all here,” he told the court. “We must determine whether the defendant, Miles Edgeworth, is in any way responsible for the death of our mayor, Ms Angela Skellig!”</p>
<p>“…he wasn’t.”</p>
<p>And just like that, all attention returned to the witness stand.</p>
<p>“Michaela?!” cried the judge.</p>
<p>Her eyes freshly dried, Michaela looked up at the court.</p>
<p>“If he had failed to do his chosen duty,” she said, “I would have understood.”</p>
<p>She looked to the prosecution.</p>
<p>“I <em>wanted</em> to blame you, Mr Edgeworth,” she stated, and she slapped her hands over her ears again. “I still don't want to believe it! I don't want to think my mother was a killer! I don't want to think she was a manipulative monster! And I DON'T want to think her death was her own fault for failing to take her medication!”</p>
<p>Even though it seemed to pain her, she lowered her hands away from her head.</p>
<p>“But I don’t have any choice, do I?” she asked. “She forced you to become the Minstrel. Because of her…”</p>
<p>She gasped in horror.</p>
<p>“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” she cried. “It must have been <em>horrible!</em>”</p>
<p>“Considering I came very close to death,” Edgeworth said flatly, “I can absolutely say that it was.”</p>
<p>Michaela took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“And Mr…” She cut herself off. “Professor Layton?”</p>
<p>Layton gave his hat one last adjustment as he tried to gather his thoughts.</p>
<p>“Yes?” he said.</p>
<p>Michaela wiped her eyes again.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to believe it, alright?” she asked. “I don’t want to believe my mother is Mr Oldfart’s killer!”</p>
<p>Phoenix suddenly remembered something else.</p>
<p>“Hey, Luke?” he said.</p>
<p>“I’m on it!” Luke reached into his satchel again. “Ms Skellig? Could you look our way for one moment?”</p>
<p>“What is it?” asked Michaela.</p>
<p>Luke passed the plastic bag into Phoenix’s waiting hand, and Phoenix held it up so that the witness stand could clearly see what was inside.</p>
<p>“This is the awl we found in your mother’s safe,” he told the blonde. “Does it look familiar?”</p>
<p>Michaela’s eyes widened with a sharp intake of breath.</p>
<p>“…yes,” she said softly. “Yes, that’s… that’s Mother’s awl that she would…”</p>
<p>She slapped her hand over her mouth.</p>
<p>It seemed like at long last, she had accepted the truth.</p>
<p>Phoenix wanted to collapse from relief.</p>
<p><em>Finally</em>.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Ms Skellig,” said the Professor. “Please understand that none of this is your fault. You aren’t to blame for what your mother did.”</p>
<p>Michaela gently lowered her hand away from her face.</p>
<p>“You aren’t angry at me?” she asked.</p>
<p>Layton responded with a gentle laugh.</p>
<p>“This was hardly the first time I’ve ever been on the run,” he told her, “and given my history, I doubt it will be the last.”</p>
<p>He looked over at Phoenix again, but all Phoenix could do was watch and wait for him to finish.</p>
<p>“I can, however,” Layton went on, “safely say that this is the first time I feel like I’ve been unequivocally proven wrong, and I would personally like to thank both you and Mr Wright for helping me realise that I still have plenty left to learn about this bizarre world we’re all lucky enough to exist in.”</p>
<p>For the first time in what felt like forever, Michaela managed a gentle smile.</p>
<p>Phoenix smiled too. It seemed like she didn’t loathe the Professor anywhere near as much as she had claimed to.</p>
<p>He met Edgeworth’s eyes and saw that his other friend was just as relieved. Surely, by this point, all that was left was for the judge to slam his gavel and declare both him and Layton not guilty so that they could all go-</p>
<p>“Um, excuse me?”</p>
<p>Jack was standing in the middle of the aisle that ran down the centre of the gallery.</p>
<p>“Ms Hill?” said the judge. “What seems to be the problem?”</p>
<p>“I don’t mean to interrupt the reconciliation, but, um…” Jack nervously wrung her hands. “The Minstrel hasn’t been in operation for nearly two full nights, the horde were angry enough<em> last</em> night… and, uh…”</p>
<p>She pointed out the window.</p>
<p>Phoenix followed the direction she was indicating.</p>
<p>His blood ran cold. The gallery started to buzz again, but this time the chatter was interspersed with gasps and cries of shock and terror. Luke muttered an expletive that a boy his age had no right to know and Michaela clapped both hands to her mouth.</p>
<p>None of them had kept track of the time.</p>
<p>None of them had noticed the light in the courtroom slowly fading from cold white to rich gold.</p>
<p>The sky outside was brilliant orange and pink.</p>
<p>Phoenix could barely even breathe anymore as he stared out into the evening, because that was what it was by now and nobody had realised until this moment when it was too late for anyone to do anything.</p>
<p>Their time was up.</p>
<p>The sun was going down.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. The Call of the Minstrel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’re we going to do?”</p>
<p>“The Silver Violin! The Minstrel! He has to play for the horde or else-”</p>
<p>“But we don’t know where the Silver Violin is!” Jack pointed out, shouting to be heard over the terrified chattering.</p>
<p>“You! Wright!” Mr Teeve jumped out of the gallery and pointed right at Phoenix’s face. “Where the bloody hell did that violin go?!”</p>
<p>“Well-” Phoenix started.</p>
<p>“Everybody, please try to calm down!” Michaela called. “The last thing we should do right now is panic!”</p>
<p>“Order!” The judge followed along by slamming his toffee hammer. “Order! Order in the court!”</p>
<p>“I hate to say it, Michaela!” Jack shouted. “But if we don’t panic now, then when SHOULD we?!”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to die!” cried one of the villagers.</p>
<p>“I’m not ready!” added another.</p>
<p>“I’m not ready to join my husband just yet!” yelled the shrill voice of Nosie Oldfart.</p>
<p>“Daddy, what do we do?” Trucy tugged desperately on her father’s sleeve. “Who’s going to play the violin?!”</p>
<p>“You! Minstrel!” Mrs Teeve made herself visible in the crowd and jabbed a finger at Edgeworth’s face. “Find that violin and get up that mountain this instant!”</p>
<p>“Don’t speak to me like I’m a child!” Edgeworth retorted furiously.</p>
<p>“Order! Order!” The judge kept slamming his gavel, unnoticed by the frenzied remains of his court. “Order in the court! I WILL have ORDER!”</p>
<p>“At this point, I don’t know if that would work!” Michaela shouted in Posy Teeve’s direction. “The Pictish Shrine’s been silent for two nights by now! For all we know, when the horde come to attack, they could kill the Minstrel too!”</p>
<p>“Do you wholeheartedly believe they’ll attack?” Layton’s gentle voice was barely audible over the hubbub. “They won’t simply wander aimlessly around the streets like they usually do?”</p>
<p>“You claim to have been on the run, Professor!” Michaela replied. “Surely you saw them last night! One of them tried to break through my window!”</p>
<p>“They were hammering on my door all bloody night!” added the muscular librarian.</p>
<p>“By tonight, they’ll be angry enough to break in!” cried Nosie, wringing a handkerchief around in her hands. “I can’t do this! I don’t want to die!”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to die either!” screamed a woman beside her. “I’m not ready!”</p>
<p>“My daughter’s down in Stirling!” shouted a man nearby. “She’s never going to know what happened to me!”</p>
<p>“Everybody please quieten down!” Michaela cupped her hands around her mouth as she yelled at the top of her lungs. “I’m sure we can think of something! Anything!”</p>
<p>“What CAN we do?!” screamed Jack.</p>
<p>“How many times?!” bellowed the judge. “ORDER!”</p>
<p>“Daddy, say something!” cried Trucy.</p>
<p>Phoenix’s mind scrambled for something to say or do. He snatched up his journal and flipped through every page full of writing that he’d scribbled down ever since he’d stepped off that goddamn bus. It was useless, he knew, but surely there was a chance that his eye would brush over something, <em>anything</em> that could tell him what they should do-</p>
<p>“I-I might have an idea,” he lied, “but I don’t know if it’d be any good-”</p>
<p>“Whatever it is, just say it!” snapped Luke.</p>
<p>“Oi! Minstrel!” shouted Mr Teeve. “You have to do something! I’m not bloody dying on your watch!”</p>
<p>“Your lives were NEVER my responsibility!” Edgeworth bellowed. “I’m not setting one more foot on those steps and you can’t make me!”</p>
<p>“Please leave Mr Edgeworth alone!” shouted Michaela. “It should be clear he’s suffered enough for our sake!”</p>
<p>“But Michaela, something HAS to be done!” Layton pointed out. “I’m trying to think of a solution, but I can’t come up with anything that we could do!”</p>
<p>“I thought you were an investigator?!” Michaela screamed.</p>
<p>“Until five minutes ago, I believed ghosts to be an impossibility!” Layton furiously reminded her.</p>
<p>“What the bloody hell are we going to do?!” yelled another frantic villager.</p>
<p>“Daddy, I don’t want to die!” Trucy latched onto her father’s waist.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Truce!” Phoenix replied, still one-handed flipping between his journal’s pages. “I won’t let you!”</p>
<p>“But how are we going to stop them?!” cried Luke.</p>
<p>Phoenix slapped his journal shut. His mind was racing too fast for him to keep up. No matter how he tried to think, no matter what ideas he begged for his brain to throw up, the inside of his head was a fogged up mess of nothingness that wouldn’t present anything useful in spite of how much he begged it to give him something, <em>anything</em>-</p>
<p>“WHY DON’T YOU JUST <em>FIGHT?!</em>”</p>
<p>The court went silent.</p>
<p>Dr Wallace remained where he stood, panting for breath, seemingly amazed by how loud his voice had somehow become. The citizens of Fatargan stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but from the looks of things, he hadn’t thought very far ahead.</p>
<p>He looked over at Michaela instead, silently tossing her the baton.</p>
<p>Michaela gave him a nod.</p>
<p>Phoenix stood back and watched. Ridiculous as that idea was, thank god <em>someone</em> had managed shut up that horrible cacophony.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Doctor,” said Michaela.</p>
<p>She stepped out from behind the witness stand and walked to stand beside Dr Wallace, where every single person in the courtroom – save for the judge, of course – could clearly see her face.</p>
<p>“Good people of Fatargan,” she called out to the village, “please listen to me. We deserve to be afraid, now more than ever, but we can’t just stand here and shout at each other! If everybody’s talking over everybody else, how are we supposed to <em>think</em>, let alone find a solution?”</p>
<p>The courtroom stayed silent. Not even a whisper. Phoenix saw the Professor stroke his chin in thought, frowning at the tabletop, and Edgeworth leaned on his bench, tapping his fingers on its surface.</p>
<p>Phoenix himself closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That, at least, chased some of the fog out of his mind. With that done, he tried to process the possibilities they had to work with.</p>
<p>“Michaela, what solution are we supposed to come up with?” asked Jack. “Even if we all try to shelter in our homes, there’s no way we’ll be able to keep the horde out! Like I said, they were already angry enough last night! By tonight, they’ll be so pissed they’ll smash our doors apart!”</p>
<p>So they couldn’t just hide themselves away. Even if they tried, barricading the doors and boarding up the windows – which they probably didn’t have time for as it was – these were <em>ghosts</em> they were dealing with. How were you supposed to block the way of something that could probably just walk straight through any barricade you could try to come up with?</p>
<p>Dammit, this would be so much easier if he’d just asked Maya a few more questions the last time he had been to Kurain Village!</p>
<p>The left side of his abdomen had started to sting. He hoped that his train of thought hadn’t somehow been enough to rip open the scratches again.</p>
<p>“Phoenix,” he heard Layton say, “you have more experience with the unquiet dead than I do. Is what Ms Hill is saying a possibility?”</p>
<p>Memories of a nightmarish trial flashed through Phoenix’s mind and he tried to shake them out.</p>
<p>“I have to admit,” he replied, “I’m more familiar with spirits when they’re being channelled, but if what I’ve seen in this place is anything to go by, I think it might be possible.”</p>
<p>His left hand wandered over to his side, and he gently traced down the length of the scratches.</p>
<p>“If they can shake a window frame and leave scratches in a door…” he considered. “…or in me…”</p>
<p>He only realised he had spoken that last part out loud when the gallery started to murmur and stare at him in horror.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright,” Michaela gasped, “you were attacked?”</p>
<p>Phoenix hesitated, his hand halfway to the bottom of his hoodie.</p>
<p>There wasn’t any way he could tell these people the truth. Not after Layton had been so insistent about hiding in the caves.</p>
<p>“I, uh…” It was okay; a white lie would be enough to keep him going. “I went for a walk last night because I was going nuts from the isolation in that cottage… and…”</p>
<p>He cupped his fingers around his jacket and shirt and lifted them both aside, and turned so that everybody in the room could see the five scratches that had been clawed into his flesh, no doubt standing out a deep reddish-brown against his pale skin.</p>
<p>The gasps and mutters of horror were more or less what he had expected. Michaela slapped both hands over her mouth and stared at his body.</p>
<p>“One of them took a swipe at me,” Phoenix explained. “Took a while for the bleeding to stop.”</p>
<p>The only one who didn’t look surprised was Layton, but even so, he averted his eyes with a grim frown of regret.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, are you okay?” asked Luke. “Those look awful!”</p>
<p>“They only hurt when I stop to think about them,” Phoenix told him, and he lowered his clothes again before his skin had a chance to get too cold.</p>
<p>He looked out to see several of Fatargan’s citizens staring at him in undisguised terror.</p>
<p>“If only one…” Nosie Oldfart’s eyes were widest and most terrified of them all. “…if just one of them could cause such horrible wounds…”</p>
<p>She pressed her handkerchief over her face.</p>
<p>“No!” she cried. “No, I’m not ready to die!”</p>
<p>“Then why don’t you fight?” asked Dr Wallace. “Why can’t you stand your ground and make it clear to those translucent bastards that you don’t plan on going anywhere?!”</p>
<p>The doctor’s eyes were wide as well, but he wasn’t afraid. Far from it. He looked wild and overenergized, like he had spent the entire morning chugging energy drink cocktails and they were all kicking in at once.</p>
<p>“Dr Wallace?” Layton spoke up, as it seemed like nobody else had the courage to. “What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“We don’t have weapons here!” shouted one of the villagers.</p>
<p>“Maybe there were Picts here before us,” yelled another from somewhere near the back, “but we ain’t no bloody Picts!”</p>
<p>“You have tools, don’t you?” Dr Wallace demanded. “Ms Hill, don’t you have a spade?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but-”</p>
<p>“Then use it! When lives are on the line, you’ve got to make a weapon out of <em>anything!</em>”</p>
<p>Phoenix struggled not to stare at him. For some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, the way the doctor was talking suggested that he was speaking from experience.</p>
<p>“Uh, Doc?” he said hesitantly. “Why do you sound like you’ve done this before?”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace staggered at the question, clutching his bonsai tree even tighter to his chest than ever before.</p>
<p>“I…” he gasped. “…I-I…”</p>
<p>He stared, wild-eyed, at the villagers.</p>
<p>They stared back.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to do this either, alright?!” he spluttered. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again! I came to this bloody village to get away from killing and bloodshed! To get away from people constantly screaming in my ears! Constantly surrounded by blood and crying and nothing I do ever being any good because there's no way I can keep people alive, no matter how much the CO screams right in my ear!”</p>
<p>He dug one hand into his already-messy hair, pulling strands free from his tight ponytail as a tear trickled down his cheek.</p>
<p>“And there’s blood all over my hands and my clothes!” he ranted. “And my tools went blunt hours ago and nobody will listen to me when I say it's best to <em>leave a bullet alone</em> if you've been shot! The only exception is if it’s directly life-threatening! All I wanted was to live somewhere peaceful! I just want to get away from all the fighting and the screaming and everybody FUCKING <em>DYING!</em>”</p>
<p>He pressed his hand over his eyes, head bowed, shoulders shaking as quiet tears leaked down to his chin. He adjusted his grip on his bonsai pot until he was sobbing into its branches.</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but remember that trial a few days ago. How the doctor had reacted to the sound of him snapping his journal shut. How stressed he had been at the mere concept of being separated from that bonsai tree for as long as it had taken to clear his name.</p>
<p>How had he not seen it before?</p>
<p>“…so that’s it…” he sighed, unable to do anything but watch the traumatised man break down in the middle of the room.</p>
<p>“That’s so awful,” muttered Luke. “I wonder where he was stationed?”</p>
<p>The doctor sniffed and raised his head, wiping his eyes on the back of the hand he had used to cover them.</p>
<p>“So honestly, why not fight?” he asked, his bitter voice strained from shouting and crying. “At this point, it’s the only thing you people haven’t done yet.”</p>
<p>He lowered his hand to hold his bonsai even closer, his eyes swollen and bloodshot.</p>
<p>“Grab whatever you can get your hands on to fight off those see-through bastards and complete the bloody experience.”</p>
<p>Once again, the courtroom was utterly silent.</p>
<p>Nobody dared to breathe too loud, let alone say a single word.</p>
<p>Phoenix made sure that he too kept his mouth firmly shut. He had a feeling that nothing good would arise from trying to thank Dr Wallace for his service.</p>
<p>“Doctor…” Michaela took an unsteady step towards him. “I’m sorry, I… I never thought…”</p>
<p>Dr Wallace didn’t respond.</p>
<p>He gazed down at the bonsai tree in his arm as though it were a child he was cradling.</p>
<p>What was it he had agreed to call it because of Trucy’s insistence? Stefan, right? A chill pulsed through Phoenix’s veins at the realisation that it was probably the name of a friend he’d lost.</p>
<p>And now here he was suggesting they get violent just because it was the only thing he hadn’t relived yet…</p>
<p>The sound of a hum of thought turned Phoenix’s attention back to the witness stand.</p>
<p>“Believe it or not, Dr Wallace,” Layton spoke up, “you may, in fact, be onto something.”</p>
<p>“What?!” the doctor spat, and Phoenix couldn’t help but agree.</p>
<p>“Hershel, what’re you talking about?” he asked. “How are we supposed to fight against people who’re already dead?”</p>
<p>The Professor held up one finger in a very teacherly manner.</p>
<p>“Let us consider the Silver Violin,” he explained. “An implement made using materials harvested from this region and, from what Mr Wright reported to me, using water from the Sacred Well. If music from such an instrument is powerful enough to quieten the dead for a night…”</p>
<p>He turned to look at Jack, who stood dumbfounded in the middle of the gallery.</p>
<p>“…imagine what a swift spade to the neck would accomplish.”</p>
<p>Jack looked at the empty space around her until it dawned on her that <em>she</em> was the one being referred to. When she did, her face lit up in shock.</p>
<p>“Holy- you’re right!” she gasped, digging her fingers into her hair. “I-I told you, didn’t I, Mr Wright? All the tools in this village were made here! Native coal and all! And they used water from the Sacred Well!”</p>
<p>“Not only that,” added Michaela with an adjustment of her glasses, “but being a man made creation using elements from the earth, iron is a natural repellent against the supernatural. That’s why all the buildings in Fatargan have iron window frames. Doctor, your idea would…”</p>
<p>She looked up at Dr Wallace, who seemed taken aback by the sudden wave of agreement.</p>
<p>“It could work!” she told him. “It could genuinely work!”</p>
<p>She turned back to her citizens with renewed vigour sparkling in her steely eyes.</p>
<p>“Do you hear me, good people?” She raised a fist in determination. “We cannot allow these spectres of the past to drive us from the mountains! It’s time we showed them all that this is <em>our </em>home now, and we don’t plan on going anywhere! Are you with me?”</p>
<p>The gallery gossiped to one another. Nobody vocalised agreement, but from the looks of the faces visible in the crowd, some of them were being swayed to Michaela’s side.</p>
<p>“I said…” She thrust her fist into the air. “Are you WITH ME?”</p>
<p>“Yes!” shouted someone near the back.</p>
<p>“We’re with you!” agreed someone off to one side.</p>
<p>“We love you, Michaela!” yelled someone else.</p>
<p>“Fatargan’s guardian angel!” a fourth voice chimed in.</p>
<p>“I’ve always wanted to shiv a ghost!” shouted someone else.</p>
<p>“And while we fight, the Minstrel can play for us!” added a sixth.</p>
<p>“No, I bloody well can’t!” Edgeworth spat. “I’d rather be possessed to throw myself into a gorge than spend one more minute on top of that mountain!”</p>
<p>“And even if you didn’t,” said Layton, “you shouldn’t participate in any kind of fight. Not after the ordeal you suffered up until two nights ago.”</p>
<p>“But it would still be a decent idea to have the Silver Violin being played,” Michaela said. “If even one of the Painted King’s soldiers is calmed by the music, it’s obvious how that would give us an advantage.”</p>
<p>Phoenix could barely believe what he was hearing anymore. It took all of his mental effort for any of the words he was processing to make some kind of sense, and even then, he was hesitant to accept any of it as fact.</p>
<p>A thought crept into his mind.</p>
<p>A ridiculous thought that he was never <em>ever</em> going to speak out loud, but one that he felt would see him annihilated if he tried to keep it to himself.</p>
<p>“Are we all in agreement that this is totally insane?” he said to his co-counsels to distract himself from it.</p>
<p>“Absolutely,” Luke replied.</p>
<p>“I’m not getting into any fight!” insisted Trucy. “I use swords for magic, not war!”</p>
<p>“How do you use a <em>sword</em> in magic?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“If it pleases the court and the village,” Layton spoke up before Trucy could explain, “I humbly offer my services as the Minstrel. I would gladly play to-”</p>
<p>“Professor, no!” shouted his apprentice.</p>
<p>Layton blinked at him in confusion.</p>
<p>“Luke?” Even he, the great Professor Layton, was baffled. “Whyever not?”</p>
<p>“You’re probably the best sword fighter in this entire mountain range!” Luke pointed out. “You’d be so much more effective on the ground than up at that shrine!”</p>
<p>The Professor frowned at the teen.</p>
<p>“My boy, I understand your concern,” he replied, “but while it’s true that I’m an accomplished swordsman, I’m also a violinist. I’m quite confident in the skills that I-”</p>
<p>“Mr Teeve?” Michaela cut him off. “Do you still have those swords hanging over your mantlepiece?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely!” Neggy Teeve replied cheerfully. “No idea whether they’re sharp or not, but-”</p>
<p>“There are actual swords in this village…” Phoenix muttered to himself as the old man rambled. “You know what, at this point, why not?”</p>
<p>“Neggy, those are just for decoration!” Posy Teeve snapped, looking like she might slap her husband upside the head. “My father gifted them to me for our wedding! You are <em>not</em> taking those down for one moment!”</p>
<p>“Mrs Teeve, I understand your argument, but we <em>need</em> weapons!” Michaela told her.</p>
<p>“I have Caitlin,” Jack spoke up, frowning in thought. “I think everyone here has at least a few knives and a fire poker. Gardening tools too. If you tied a trowel onto the end of a broom-”</p>
<p>“But we should still have a Minstrel!” someone in the gallery shouted her down.</p>
<p>The judge slammed his gavel again, causing Phoenix to wonder how effective a toffee hammer would be against the ghostly horde.</p>
<p>“Please try to calm down!” the bald man called to the courtroom. “Is there anybody here willing to volunteer for the role who wouldn’t be equally as effective in battle?”</p>
<p>Phoenix swallowed.</p>
<p>He didn’t want to say it. That awful, absurd, <em>ridiculous</em> idea that had crept into his head. He didn’t want to say it out loud, because if he did that, that would make it an actual possibility and something that he might <em>actually</em> have to do…</p>
<p>“Not me!” yelled someone in the crowd.</p>
<p>“Don’t look to me for this,” said Michaela. “Mother strictly forbade me from learning how to play. She knew the dangers of exposure to the elements and didn’t want me anywhere near the Pictish Shrine.”</p>
<p>Every instinct in Phoenix’s mind was screaming at him to open up and tell these people the truth.</p>
<p>“I can’t play!” One of the villagers dug his hands into his hair. “All this time and I never bothered to learn!”</p>
<p>“Neither did I!” added another. “I never got round to it! That stuff’s all over the internet these days but I just never even tried it!”</p>
<p>“Are you absolutely sure you’d rather have me on the ground?” asked Layton.</p>
<p>“If you can use a sword, then yes!” snapped one villager.</p>
<p>“But we don’t even know where the Silver Violin is!” another pointed out.</p>
<p>There was nothing for it.</p>
<p>He had no choice.</p>
<p>Phoenix took a deep breath and spoke with a sigh of resignation:</p>
<p>“I can do it.”</p>
<p>He hadn’t even tried to raise his voice, but the moment those words left his lips, the entire court went quiet again. Every eye in the room turned in his direction. Some were hopeful. Some were confused. Others were downright despairing.</p>
<p>“<em>You</em>, Mr Wright?” Not even Michaela believed what she had just heard.</p>
<p>Phoenix resisted the urge to punch himself.</p>
<p>“I know where the Silver Violin is,” he admitted. “I took it back to that cottage after we pulled Edgeworth down from the shrine. You guys are allowed to be mad at me for that.”</p>
<p>Aside from a soft whisper or two, the court stayed crushingly silent.</p>
<p>“You bastard!” cursed one villager who was very quickly shushed.</p>
<p>“OBJECTION!”</p>
<p>Still behind his bench, Edgeworth slammed one hand on its surface.</p>
<p>“That’s very noble of you, Wright,” he said, “but both of us know that you don’t have a chance in hell.”</p>
<p>Just like Phoenix knew he would, the man looked as though he could burst out laughing.</p>
<p>“Do you even know how to hold a violin?” he asked. “Let alone play it!”</p>
<p>“See, this is why I never told you,” Phoenix replied. “I knew you’d just make fun of me.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth’s smirk vanished. It looked like he was realising how serious Phoenix was.</p>
<p>“Mr Edgeworth,” the Professor spoke up, “I can vouch for the fact that not only is Phoenix able to play a violin, but he can do so rather beautifully.”</p>
<p>“What?” Edgeworth spluttered as Phoenix tried not to blush again. “<em>You</em>, Wright?!”</p>
<p>Phoenix cleared his throat and hoped his cheeks hadn’t darkened too much at the sound of Layton’s compliment.</p>
<p>“I’ve been playing since college,” he explained. “Picked it up to impress Dahlia and never bothered to stop. Like I said, I never told you or Maya or Larry or <em>anyone</em> about it because I knew you’d just laugh in my face!”</p>
<p>Edgeworth sighed and pressed one hand over his eye.</p>
<p>“I can promise you, Wright,” he said, “that right now, I don’t feel like laughing in the slightest.”</p>
<p>Phoenix was halfway through figuring out what he was supposed to say next when Michaela suddenly approached his bench.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright,” she said softly, staring him straight in the eye. “Please understand that it’s far colder up at the Pictish Shrine than it is on the ground, and as the night wears on, it’s only going to get colder. Not only that, but with as angry as the horde are going to be, I can’t promise that you’ll be effective.”</p>
<p>Her stare faltered for the briefest of moments.</p>
<p>“I’ll understand completely if you change your mind,” she said, “and decide you don’t want to do this. We’ll <em>all</em> understand. Are you absolutely sure you want to be our Minstrel?”</p>
<p>Part of Phoenix wanted to agree with her. He’d known from the moment it strolled into his head that this idea was completely and totally <em>insane</em> and even as he’d been explaining his playing experience, he’d wanted to slap himself in the face for encouraging this harebrained scheme.</p>
<p>But at the same time, he couldn’t escape the notion that this was something he <em>had</em> to do. Somebody had to play that goddamn violin, but Edgeworth couldn’t handle one more night of it and Layton would be better for everyone with a sword in his hand than a bow. Michaela said she couldn’t play, Dr Wallace hadn’t even spoken about it and nobody else in this room had volunteered their services.</p>
<p>Whether he liked it or not, Phoenix Wright was the best person for this job.</p>
<p>And whether he liked it or not, it would probably wind up being one of the <em>less</em> physically and emotionally taxing things he had done over the course of his life.</p>
<p>He could stand to play a violin for a few minutes, couldn’t he? Or… or maybe an hour...</p>
<p>Sure, he’d be exposed to all these people, most of whom he didn’t even know and who’d been calling for his head on a silver platter not twelve hours prior, and he barely even had the courage to play in front of the Professor, let alone his daughter or <em>Edgeworth</em>…</p>
<p>…but if not him, then who?</p>
<p>Who else could do this?</p>
<p>He swallowed, hoping Michaela didn’t notice his anxiety.</p>
<p>“I’ve had worse.”</p>
<p>To his relief, she gave him a gentle smile.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she said softly.</p>
<p>She pressed herself back from his desk and returned her attention to her village.</p>
<p>“Ms Hill?” she called. “Jack, how much time do we have before sundown?”</p>
<p>“If you lot are finished,” Jack replied angrily, “I think…”</p>
<p>She stood on tiptoe, shielding her eyes, and looked out the window at the darkening sky.</p>
<p>“I think we have around half an hour of sunlight left,” she reported. “After that, we’ll all be sitting pretty in the corner penthouse of Spook Central.”</p>
<p>“Right,” sighed Michaela. “Somebody needs to go and find Tim Chanter. Everyone who can’t see the horde unaided is going to need one of his stones.”</p>
<p>“I’m on it!” shouted one citizen who immediately pelted out the door.</p>
<p>“Everybody else,” Michaela continued, “you need to get to work. Find whatever knives or tools you can. If something wouldn’t make a good weapon, find a way to change that. Anything that’s metal could do some damage with a bit of weight behind it. Anyone who’s too old, too young or infirm…” she cast an unsubtle look in Edgeworth’s direction, “…should find a place to hide. I don’t want to take any more risks than we have to.”</p>
<p>“Yes ma’am!” shouted one villager.</p>
<p>“Michaela, we love you!” added another.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?” Michaela simply said.</p>
<p>Phoenix nodded. He knew what he had to do.</p>
<p>“I understand,” he told her.</p>
<p>“If you want me to be honest,” Dr Wallace spoke up, “I was mostly being sarcastic.”</p>
<p>He ran his hand over his messy hair again.</p>
<p>“But I suppose I won’t have much of a job if everybody in Fatargan gets haunted to death,” he concluded. “Fine. Okay. I’m with you too.”</p>
<p>“So we have a plan,” said Michaela, and she adjusted her glasses one last time. “Let’s kick these see-through bastards out of our village.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Even with the sun still in the sky, the shadows cast by the trees and the mountains were long and dark and so, so cold. Battery powered torches were dug out of drawers and cupboards and oil lamps were fished out from under beds and off high shelves to provide light for the preparations.</p>
<p>Those preparations were to take place beside the Sacred Well. With the possibility of a real attack growing more and more paralysing by the second, it felt like the safest place to be. Anybody in desperate need of self-defence could easily scoop up a handful of water and splash it at their attacker.</p>
<p>By electrical and oil light, anything with even a hint of a blade was hijacked and passed to anybody still unarmed. The Officers Poe duct-taped carving and paring knives to the ends of their batons. Jack ran a stone along Caitlin’s blade to sharpen it. Dr Wallace used dental floss to bind a scalpel to a chair leg. Luke was handed a small garden fork and a broom handle, which he tied together with his own shoelace to create something odd, but at least trident-adjacent.</p>
<p>The librarian – Henry Edwards, wasn’t it? – took up position in the bell tower with the promise he would begin to ring the moment any incorporeal figures appeared anywhere in the village.</p>
<p>Right now, however, Phoenix could see him leaning over the far side of the platform from where he ran.</p>
<p>“He’s coming back!” he heard the man shout.</p>
<p>Thanks to that report, Phoenix had the full attention of the village the moment he arrived in the grove outside the police station, clutching the violin case to his chest.</p>
<p>“See?” he told Michaela. “I’ve got the violin. It’s safe.”</p>
<p>“You know,” said Edgeworth, who was tying a knot in the butcher’s twine that held a stone to Trucy’s eye, “if you had it last night, you could have played the Minstrel then too.”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding?!” Phoenix demanded.</p>
<p>It was enough to offer to do this for <em>one</em> night, let alone two.</p>
<p>“We can’t worry about that right now,” said Michaela. “Mr Edgeworth, you’re welcome to take shelter in my house. It’s one of the most isolated in Fatargan. You should be safe there.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth nodded as he finished off the knot, and Phoenix kneeled down on the other side of his little girl.</p>
<p>“Trucy?” he said, putting one hand on her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Trucy tried to adjust the stone so that she could see through its hole.</p>
<p>Phoenix straightened it out for her so he could see both her baby blues.</p>
<p>“I want you to stay with Uncle Miles,” he told her. “I don’t want you anywhere <em>near</em> this fight, but if it comes to it…”</p>
<p>He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.</p>
<p>“You make sure you keep him safe.”</p>
<p>“Okay!” was Trucy’s cheerful response.</p>
<p>Phoenix straightened back up.</p>
<p>“Edgeworth,” he said, “if you let anything happen to my daughter-”</p>
<p>“You really think I would?” Edgeworth interjected.</p>
<p>There was no need to continue that line of thought. Phoenix trusted Edgeworth. He knew this guy wouldn’t let a single hair get harmed on Trucy’s head, even if he complained about defending her the entire time.</p>
<p>The <em>swish</em> of a blade cutting through air drew their attention to the approaching black-coated man carrying an unsheathed, partly rusted sword in each hand.</p>
<p>“I have to say,” Layton said, examining one of the blades, “this is hardly the most impressive sword I’ve ever wielded…”</p>
<p>He waved it, spinning it around his hand, careful not to hit anybody nearby.</p>
<p>“But it’ll do in a pinch,” he decided, and he presented the other one to Michaela. “Ms Skellig, Mr Teeve wanted you to take this.”</p>
<p>Apparently confused, Michaela gently took the sword from his fingers.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” she said, and she ran her fingers down the brown-patched blade.</p>
<p>“What about Luke?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>“I have a gardening fork!” Luke declared, holding his makeshift trident aloft. “And I’m not afraid to use it!”</p>
<p>“Wright, it isn’t too late for you to back out,” said Edgeworth while a middle-aged woman behind him practised back-handed stabbing with a trowel. “I’m sure there must be at least <em>one</em> another person in this village who can at least manage Frere Jacques or Baa-Baa Black Sheep.”</p>
<p>“Edgeworth, I’ll be fine,” Phoenix replied, trying to ignore a pair of young men sparring with a poker and a fireplace shovel. “Like I said, I’ve had worse. I think I can at least handle standing on a mountain for however long it’ll take you guys to fight these freaks of nature off.”</p>
<p>Edgeworth sighed with another roll of his eyes.</p>
<p>“So long as you don’t fall off,” he said, “then fine.”</p>
<p>Fall off…</p>
<p>Phoenix looked up at the mountain he’d have to climb. At the shrine that stood at its top. From this distance, he could only barely see the ivy creeping around the pillars that held up its roof, and everything below that was a sheer cliff, far too steep to climb, far too smooth for him to grab onto anything if he was to lose his footing and tumble over the edge to plummet to the ground far, far below-</p>
<p>He swallowed hard again.</p>
<p>“I’ll be fine!” he squeaked.</p>
<p>“Here.”</p>
<p>The unfamiliar voice caused him to look down, and he saw that it was a little boy holding up a stone for Edgeworth to take.</p>
<p>“You’ll need this to see,” the boy told him.</p>
<p>This must be Tim Chanter, Phoenix realised. Messy hair, patchy clothes, bulging eyes… this kid really <em>was</em> weird.</p>
<p>“…thank you,” Edgeworth replied, picking the stone out of his fingers.</p>
<p>“Trucy,” Phoenix said without thinking, “do you-”</p>
<p>“Yeah, he gave me one earlier, see?” Trucy pointed at the stone that sat over her eye.</p>
<p>The stone that <em>Phoenix</em> had straightened for her. He cursed himself for his own stupidity.</p>
<p>“Ms Michaela?” said Tim. “I ran out.”</p>
<p>“No more stones?” asked Michaela.</p>
<p>Phoenix looked over at Luke, who was trying to sharpen his little fork, and who’d used his other shoelace to tie a stone over his eye. Not far away, Dr Wallace was instructing a few people on the finer points of backhanded stabbing, a stone fixed to his face with medical tape.</p>
<p>And then Phoenix looked back to Layton, who bore no such stone on his face.</p>
<p>“…that’s a problem,” Michaela stated.</p>
<p>“Indeed,” said Layton. “I’m quite confident in my skills, but even I couldn’t fight an enemy I can’t see.”</p>
<p>Another ridiculous idea thrust itself into Phoenix’s head.</p>
<p>This one, at least, was a little more sound.</p>
<p>He dug his hand into his pocket and fished out his magatama.</p>
<p>“Take this,” he said, and he offered it to the Professor.</p>
<p>Layton stared at the amulet in wonder. It reflected glints of green into his dark eyes.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, you’ll be leaving yourself blind!” Michaela argued.</p>
<p>“I don’t need it,” said Phoenix. “I don’t need any stones to see the Painted King or his horde or whatever. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know either.”</p>
<p>He tried to ignore how Michaela was staring at him. A gaze like that would cripple a lesser man.</p>
<p>“I see,” she said softly, almost disbelievingly.</p>
<p>“Phoenix, are you absolutely sure?” Layton asked again. “We’re right beside the pond! I’m certain I could find another stone!”</p>
<p>“Just take it, alright?” Phoenix insisted.</p>
<p>“Heaven’s sake, Professor,” said Edgeworth, “just take the blasted thing before Wright embarrasses himself any further.”</p>
<p>Layton looked down at the amulet again.</p>
<p>It glimmered in the lamplight. It looked almost like it was asking him to take it.</p>
<p>“Very well,” he said.</p>
<p>He reached out for it, his hand slow, his gloved fingers looking like he was struggling not to tremble…</p>
<p>…and he closed his hand around Phoenix’s, his grip pressing the stone into his palm.</p>
<p>“Play tonight to bring the chandelier down!” he commanded.</p>
<p>That was all the encouragement Phoenix needed, and he gave the Professor a smile as his heart pounded in fresh determination.</p>
<p>He pulled his hand free, pressed the violin case to his chest, and ran up the slope and past the King’s Arms to the carved stone steps that let up to the hidden passage.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>No sooner had her Dad departed than Trucy took her Uncle Miles by the hand.</p>
<p>“Come on, let’s go!” she told him. “We don’t have much time left!”</p>
<p>“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Uncle Miles replied. “Spare a little thought for the infirm, will you?”</p>
<p>She towed him up the slope and past the half-frozen fountain in the middle of the square to the steps up to the Skellig residence, which were covered in snow that had been crushed by all the people who’d visited during the past day or two.</p>
<p>She’d felt left out when her Dad had to leave her behind after Dr Wallace’s trial, but now that she knew everything that had happened in there…</p>
<p>Trucy gave Uncle Miles’ hand a squeeze as she led him up. He squeezed her back. Seemed like both of them needed some reassurance.</p>
<p>The door was unlocked, thank goodness, so she didn’t have to waste valuable time picking it open. Uncle Miles ushered her inside and shut that door.</p>
<p>“Don’t lock it!” cried Trucy.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t planning to!” Uncle Miles told her. “What good will a lock be against something that can walk through walls?”</p>
<p>“I don’t mean that!” Trucy told him. “What if something happens and we need to get out of here really quickly?”</p>
<p>She saw Uncle Miles huff through his nose, obviously not realising there was nothing he could do to hide his true feelings from the eyes of Trucy Wright.</p>
<p>“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, and he pressed his hands into his pockets. “Wish it wasn’t so damn- darn cold in here.”</p>
<p>Trucy pushed the nearest door open, exposing what turned out to be Ms Skellig’s office.</p>
<p>There was still a big patch of blood on the floor. By now, it had frozen solid.</p>
<p>“Do you think we’ll be safe in here?” she asked.</p>
<p>Uncle Miles just frowned at the room.</p>
<p>“We’ll likely be as safe here as we would be anywhere else in this blasted house,” he told her, and he sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “May as well make ourselves comfortable and wait for this to blow over.”</p>
<p>Trucy sat down in the chair next to him.</p>
<p>She turned and peered over her shoulder at the window behind them, annoyed that she couldn’t see the shrine from here.</p>
<p>It was even darker than before.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Phoenix rested the case on the floor and popped it open.</p>
<p>The violin’s polished surface glimmered in the fading light.</p>
<p>He unhooked the bow and tightened its strings, and had to pull off his gloves because goddamn was this ever fiddly.</p>
<p>Once that was done, he pulled out the rosin and applied a liberal layer to those strings. With how much playing he was probably in for, he was going to need as much as he could get.</p>
<p>And after what felt like an eternity, he gently prised the violin out of its plush lining and straightened up again.</p>
<p>Michaela hadn’t been kidding. The wind up here was <em>freezing</em>. It bit at his cheeks and snapped at his bare fingers and washed down the back of his neck, under his scarf and into his jacket and shirt. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to shiver violently at the sensation.</p>
<p>All he could see was the ledge.</p>
<p>He forced himself closer. Step by step, he approached the Pictish Shrine. The wind whistled in his ears and bristled through the ivy wrapped around those pillars, and he could hear it whirling around below his feet as he approached the ledge and the sheer cliff that dropped away into nothing but solid stone ground under a thin layer of snow that would kill him instantly on contact and all it would take would be a single slip of the foot, a tiny patch of ice or a loose stone or even a gust of this freezing wind to knock him off and send him falling down to his-</p>
<p>He stumbled back.</p>
<p>That was enough. He didn’t have to be <em>that</em> close to the edge.</p>
<p>Something under his feet caught his attention, and he looked down at the ancient stone he now stood upon.</p>
<p>There was no snow here. The shrine was sheltered by the rock face above it. There was, however, a pair of shallow dents worn into the granite.</p>
<p>Just how many Minstrels had come up here before Phoenix?</p>
<p>He didn’t know. Didn’t even want to speculate.</p>
<p>But here he was, literally following in their footsteps, so he positioned himself steady in those worn-down dents.</p>
<p>As another freezing wind flooded over his body, he looked out at the mountains to his side, just in time for the final light of the sun to twinkle out of view.</p>
<p>The village was plunged into darkness. Only the few flashlights and lanterns still dotted around the Sacred Well were any sign that this place was still inhabited.</p>
<p>
  <em>Play tonight to bring the chandelier down!</em>
</p>
<p>That settled the tunes he was going to use.</p>
<p>And after taking one last deep breath, the final Minstrel of Fatargan brought the violin to his shoulder and began to play.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a familiar tune. Layton knew it well by now.</p>
<p>But on this night, in the shadows and the freezing cold, the melody that floated on the wind and echoed around the mountains chilled him to the core.</p>
<p>For a man who professed to be afraid of playing a violin in front of others, Phoenix sure knew how to ensnare a heart.</p>
<p>As the bars of his introduction faded out, Layton’s attention – along with that of every other person gathered around the Sacred Well – was captured by the frantic ringing of a bell and a simple two-word shout from the town’s librarian:</p>
<p>“<em>They’re coming!</em>”</p>
<p>A chill ran down Layton’s spine as, sure enough, a rush of translucent figures materialised out of the ground.</p>
<p>One of them right in his face.</p>
<p>He jabbed out with his sword, straightening the magatama tied over his eye with his free hand, and the howling figure unravelled into mist.</p>
<p>There was another by his side. He turned and slashed, catching his hat before it could fly off his head, and held it steady as he swung the half-rusted blade, bisecting two and dismembering three others that span away into lifeless fog, their screams dying in their voiceless throats.</p>
<p>There should be resistance, he told himself. He should have felt something against the sword. Another blade. A body. At least the tearing of the ragged fabric these people wore. Not just a breeze. Not <em>nothing</em>.</p>
<p>He could still hear the violin. The music had intensified. The violin, whistling wind, the gasps and grunts of effort of the people around him as they fought back the indistinct figures that surrounded them.</p>
<p>One of them reached for his face. He slashed off its hand and stabbed it in the neck and it faded away from his blade.</p>
<p>He could feel another behind him. He spun around and swiftly decapitated it, taking one arm off with his swing and nearly driving his sword into the dirt.</p>
<p>Shallow strikes, he reminded himself. He had to hold back. Had to restrain himself. No resistance against his attacks meant even a standard motion could put him at a disadvantage from accidental overcompensation. Hold back, he told himself. <em>Hold back</em>.</p>
<p>But he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t hold back too much. Couldn’t even see anybody through the masses of shapes that surrounded him. No matter how many he cut through there were always more and they were always lunging at him, nails bared, eye sockets gaping and empty, mouths either hanging open in silent shrieks of agony or clenched in hideous rictus grins-</p>
<p>More were behind him. He slashed back to destroy them. <em>Three at once</em>.</p>
<p>How could there be so many?!</p>
<p>He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t even <em>think</em> about backing down. The moment he’d stop to consider that there were too many for him or anyone else to fight would be the moment they’d overwhelm him and rip him to shreds. He didn’t need physical evidence to know that for a fact.</p>
<p>Was Phoenix’s playing slowing them down?</p>
<p>Layton honestly couldn’t tell at all.</p>
<p>The crash of breaking glass slammed into his ears like a runaway train. He looked in its direction to see half-skeletal figures hunched over the shattered remains of one of their torches. Three more were reaching for a lantern and he slashed them in half before they could get close.</p>
<p>“They’re going for the lights!” he shouted.</p>
<p>Could anybody hear him?</p>
<p>Was anybody even nearby?</p>
<p>He didn’t know.</p>
<p>He thrust his sword into a stomach and brought his blade around to hack off another head, still failing to restrain his strikes. He stumbled and almost lost his footing before something hot and sharp carved into his right forearm. He gritted his teeth and grunted in pain as he let go of his hat to support his weapon with his other hand. He could feel his sleeve becoming damp. His arm was <em>burning</em>.</p>
<p>No sooner had he processed that than another flash of agony shot across his upper back, finally tipping his balance and knocking him to his knees. He collapsed painfully and clumsily to the stone, his back burning even hotter than his arm. He could feel trickles of something he didn’t want to think about seeping down to his hips.</p>
<p>His foot slipped underneath him as he tried to clamber back onto his feet. His wrists screamed from the weight of his fall as a second bolt of burning pain was slashed into his back. Every hair on his body stood on end. He could feel more blood pouring across his sides and down to his stomach. One simple phrase echoed around and around in his head:</p>
<p>
  <em>Get up!</em>
</p>
<p>Another rush of wind behind him caught his attention. Another of the horde had been destroyed. He could feel something more corporeal at his back. When Layton looked up, it was his faithful apprentice, standing solid with his makeshift trident in his hands and grimacing with effort.</p>
<p>“Luke?” he gasped. The boy was almost unrecognisable.</p>
<p>“I’ve got your back, Professor!” Luke replied, offering one end of his broom handle.</p>
<p>Layton took it and was pulled to his feet to the sound of another torch being destroyed. He slashed at the spirits again and saw Luke jabbing with his trident out of the corner of his eye before spinning on his heels so fast that Layton almost couldn’t keep up.</p>
<p>It was almost like a dance. The perfect combination of attack and restraint.</p>
<p>The Professor set his jaw. He thrust out at a tattooed figure that had been looming over his apprentice while Luke slashed out with his trident, gashing open the necks of two others.</p>
<p>Another smash of glass. Another broken lantern. It was getting darker. The temperature was dropping by the second. A flash of white in the corner of his vision drew his eye to where Michaela had become visible, viciously swinging the sword she’d been given and practically <em>screaming</em> at the spirits that surrounded her.</p>
<p>An oil lamp hung behind her. One of the last they had left.</p>
<p>She pulled back her hand and swung so hard that she spun herself around on her heels, clearing a wide berth around her body-</p>
<p>-and allowing her enough time and space to thrust that sword up into the lamp. It took seconds for the oil to coat her blade and even less time for the flame in the broken glass to catch that oil before it flickered out.</p>
<p>Michaela swung her now burning sword with a shout of effort.</p>
<p>Layton forced himself to take his eyes off her. There were still so many more to fight off. Four to his left that he slashed at and decapitated. Three to his right that he impaled on his sword in a single shot. Five behind him that he turned to and bisected in one fell swoop before they could tear down one of their last remaining torches.</p>
<p>He saw Dr Wallace stab another in the head with his scalpel-chair-leg while simultaneously slamming one to the ground with a rake in the other hand. His muscles were visible through his sleeves and straining from the grip.</p>
<p>A hand – a warm, living hand – grasped for Layton’s and he took it. He glanced to his side; it was Luke, panting for breath and wide-eyed in terror. Even this open-minded youth was struggling to keep up not only in the physical sense, but mentally. The Professor gave his hand a squeeze to reassure him. They couldn’t stop yet. They <em>had</em> to keep going through the darkness and the wind and the <em>cold</em>-</p>
<p>A flash of light drew his eye again. Michaela’s burning sword.</p>
<p>Beyond her illuminated form, half-shapeless figures were stumbling up the slope, and Layton’s stomach froze in dread when he realised where they could be going.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig!” he shouted.</p>
<p>Even before he had her attention, he pointed over her head with his sword, and thank goodness Michaela immediately understood what he was indicating.</p>
<p>“I’m on it!” she replied.</p>
<p>She cut a swathe through the ghostly horde and ran through the space she had created in the direction of her family’s home.</p>
<p>Layton released Luke and tossed his sword into his other hand, tired of his burning arm, and thrust behind him with a backhand grip to dispel the chill he could feel looming behind him.</p>
<p>The sound of the violin was still ringing in his ears.</p>
<p>He had to keep going, he told himself. Keep fighting. Don’t fall down again. Don’t give up. Don’t stop.</p>
<p>Whatever you do, Hershel Layton, <em>do not stop</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The window frames were rattling.</p>
<p>“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Uncle Miles.</p>
<p>Trucy jumped to her feet in her chair and looked behind them. The window was blocked by the pale, eyeless, stringy-haired faces of people long since dead. They hammered on the glass and clawed at the frames with filthy fingernails.</p>
<p>“They’re trying to get in!” Trucy shouted. “Uncle Miles, hide!”</p>
<p>She jumped over the back of her chair and made a beeline for the rack of tools that sat beside the fireplace.</p>
<p>A chill on her ears caused her to freeze.</p>
<p>Something – some<em>one</em> – was right behind her.</p>
<p>“…oh,” she heard Uncle Miles say. “…hello there…”</p>
<p>Trucy ignored every instinct in her mind, every tiny screaming droplet of common sense, and forced herself to look around.</p>
<p>Uncle Miles stood against the desk, wide-eyed and face to face with the see-through nearly shapeless mass of a woman who Trucy could see, even from this angle, had a dark splatter running all the way down the back of her neck.</p>
<p>She didn’t have to be a master detective to figure out who that was.</p>
<p>Angela Skellig lunged at Uncle Miles, who slipped on the frozen puddle of her blood and grunted in pain as he slumped against the desk. Trucy scrambled onto the chair behind the ghost that latched its hands around Uncle Miles’ neck, and all Uncle Miles could do was scramble and scratch at hands that his fingers uselessly slipped through-</p>
<p>-until Trucy thrust the poker out and stabbed Ms Skellig in the head, right through the back of her bun.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry!” she whispered as the figure faded away.</p>
<p>She jumped down from the chair and helped her coughing uncle steady himself on his feet.</p>
<p>The sound of shattering glass made her blood run cold.</p>
<p>“We need to get out of here!” she gasped.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” Uncle Miles replied. “Come on!”</p>
<p>“AH!” Trucy yelped in shock as he snatched her up and clutched her to his chest, hooking one arm under her legs as he straightened to his feet.</p>
<p>He ran for the office door. Trucy swung with the poker and slashed at the ghosts that were crawling in through the window but didn’t get to do any real damage as Uncle Miles carried her out of the office and slammed the door shut.</p>
<p>They barely had time to catch their breaths before something hammered on the door, which shook violently under the force.</p>
<p>Uncle Miles dashed to the front door and wrenched it open, and Trucy held on as tight as she could as he jumped out of the building, ignored the steps and deliberately slipped to slide down the slope on his feet. It was all Trucy could do not to scream all the way down and she silently thanked Uncle Miles for holding onto her so tightly.</p>
<p>When they reached the bottom, Uncle Miles took a deep, shuddering breath.</p>
<p>“Are you alright?” he asked.</p>
<p>Trucy opened her mouth to respond, but the sight of even more see-through people behind them cut her off.</p>
<p>She looked around them. They were surrounded. She slashed again with the poker but the second she took two out, five more flooded in to take their place. No matter how many times she attacked, they just would <em>not</em> stop coming. Even as Uncle Miles turned with her to boost her attacks, it was useless because there were just <em>so many</em>-</p>
<p>-until a blast of light and heat rushed past her face and sliced through ten of the monsters at once.</p>
<p>Uncle Miles stumbled back and Trucy struggled not to drop her poker in shock as Michaela Skellig swept in front of them, a whirling rush of pale fabric and a <em>sword that was on fire</em>. She set herself between them and the horde, bracing herself to attack again and staring them down, looking like she was daring them to attack, to give her an excuse to strike again.</p>
<p>Her teeth were gritted. Her breath hissed into steam from her nostrils and the sweat on her brow was freezing in the cold as she brandished that sword, preparing for another attack.</p>
<p>But she didn’t need to.</p>
<p>The ghosts had frozen.</p>
<p>Their eyeless faces turned this way and that, like they were searching for something or following a bird that was fluttering overhead.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until she remembered her father that Trucy realised what was different.</p>
<p>The music he was playing.</p>
<p>It had slowed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The melody had changed. It was slower. Softer. More wistful than before.</p>
<p>Something about it had caused the horde to halt in their advance. They stood in place, their heads turned skyward, their bodies slowly swaying from side to side.</p>
<p>Layton lowered his sword, struggling not to drop it. He switched it to his other hand so that he had some fingers free to grip his aching forearm.</p>
<p>Even with how obvious it was that he’d dropped his guard, the spirits didn’t attack. None of them even seemed to know he was there anymore.</p>
<p>“…what on earth?” he muttered.</p>
<p>He could still hear the music. That new tune, slower and more sweeping than the last…</p>
<p>…which the spirits were slowly swaying in perfect time to.</p>
<p>“I don’t get it,” Layton heard Luke say. “Why are they…”</p>
<p>Before he could say another word, the ghosts started to move again, their steps shambling and hesitant as the immense crowd shuffled in position.</p>
<p>Every movement was timed perfectly to the music.</p>
<p>Without the rush of clawed hands and decaying faces lashing towards him, Layton could see other citizens of the village staring at the mass of translucent bodies in disbelief. They lowered the weapons they had fashioned, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the bizarre sight. The Poe twins exchanged glances and shrugs. Jack raised a hand, reaching up towards one of the figures ambling past her, but Dr Wallace pressed that hand down and warned her not to touch them.</p>
<p>It was only a matter of moments – perhaps less than a single minute – before the spirits stopped moving.</p>
<p>They now stood perfectly spaced in a strictly aligned grid, and as the melody carried on, each one lowered its half-rotted head and turned to look at the figure next to it.</p>
<p>Layton frowned in puzzlement.</p>
<p>They were <em>pairing off</em>.</p>
<p>What in the world was going on here?!</p>
<p>When the Professor looked to Luke, expecting that to be the next question, he instead saw the boy staring, awestruck, at the mountain that loomed over the village.</p>
<p>Layton followed his gaze.</p>
<p>And for a moment, he almost thought he was looking at a second aurora.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Uncle Miles lowered Trucy to the ground and she straightened out her cape, keeping her poker raised just in case one of the see-through jerks tried to attack them again.</p>
<p>What was this new tune?</p>
<p>How had Dad’s playing caused these guys to slow down so much? Not just that, but they’d all moved into some kind of… formation? Was that the word? And they had turned to face each other, like they were boys and girls at that one awkward slow dance allowed at a middle school prom.</p>
<p>Wait. Was the tune changing again?</p>
<p>The spirits all raised one of their hands – only one – and Trucy flinched at the motion, prepared for if they leapt at her and she had to defend Uncle Miles again.</p>
<p>But instead, they pressed their hands to each other’s, and slowly started to walk, circling each other in perfect unison.</p>
<p>In perfect time to the music.</p>
<p>They were <em>dancing</em>.</p>
<p>It really was a new tune. This one was even softer and sweeter than the last. Just listening to it made Trucy want to hug something.</p>
<p>How had she never known her Dad could have a talent like this?</p>
<p>She heard Michaela gasp. At first, she thought it was because the flames on her sword had finally fluttered out, but then she saw the lady staring in wonder at the mountaintop where Trucy’s father was playing for the village.</p>
<p>Trucy followed her gaze and she gasped too.</p>
<p>A bright blue light was radiating from the Pictish Shrine. It shimmered and flowed out of the rock face like an aurora, but when Trucy covered the eye she was using the stone with, she couldn’t see anything. Just a dark shadow, black against the dimming sky. She couldn’t even see her dad!</p>
<p>But when she looked through the stone, the mountaintop was shining a rich and brilliant blue.</p>
<p>“Good <em>grief</em>,” she heard Uncle Miles whisper.</p>
<p>It seemed like he had seen it too.</p>
<p>As far as Trucy could tell, there was only one thing that could be glowing like that.</p>
<p>“…of course…”</p>
<p>The mutter had come from Michaela, who was still watching the light in amazement.</p>
<p>What had she just said? ‘Of course’?</p>
<p>Did she know what was happening?</p>
<p>“I don’t understand,” Uncle Miles said softly. “What makes Wright so special?”</p>
<p>Michaela lowered her sword and relaxed on her feet.</p>
<p>“He said he can see the horde without a stone?” she asked.</p>
<p>Trucy nodded. She’d always known her Dad was special, but she’d never thought he’d ever be able to do anything like <em>this</em>.</p>
<p>“If I were to guess,” said Michaela, her voice still hushed and gentle, “I’d say that the same power that flows through the Sacred Well’s water…”</p>
<p>She looked at Uncle Miles with a gentle smile.</p>
<p>“It’s been flowing through your friend’s veins for goodness knows how long.”</p>
<p>Trucy gasped in amazed realisation.</p>
<p>“Daddy’s magic!” she cried.</p>
<p>Michaela laughed quietly to herself.</p>
<p>“Maybe not magic,” she said. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”</p>
<p>She looked up at the mountain with a sigh of delight.</p>
<p>“But he’s definitely something special.”</p>
<p>Trucy followed her gaze again, watching her father’s light shine out into the mountains.</p>
<p>Michaela was right.</p>
<p>He really <em>was</em> something special.</p>
<p>The tune slowed and deepened. Was it coming to an end?</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>Nothing of the sort.</p>
<p>Next moment, another whole new tune had been struck up, this one even faster and more intense than any of the others, and before Trucy had a chance to stop any of them or even attack with her poker, the spirits that had surrounded her, Michaela and Uncle Miles all span on their feet and <em>flooded</em> towards the mountain.</p>
<p>“What on earth?!” Uncle Miles shouted in shock.</p>
<p>“Daddy!” Trucy yelled even though she knew it was useless. “DADDY!”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Once the music had finished intensifying, it suddenly levelled out into a grand, sweeping melody that must have radiated far beyond Fatargan’s borders and out into the darkest depths of the Cairngorm mountains.</p>
<p>And then, just like that, it slowed again, sweetening into what could end up being a very soft, gentle ending to this powerful montage of music.</p>
<p>Layton could only stand and watch, dumbfounded and trying his hardest to ignore the burning pain in his arm and his back. He hadn’t had any chance to react before the horde had all rushed away from him, past him, many even passing <em>through</em> his body and leaving him frozen and shivering in their wake, but they had slowed with the music.</p>
<p>They had flooded up the entire stretch of rock that led to the Pictish Shrine, gathering around it as though trying to warm themselves in the shining light cast by Phoenix’s playing.</p>
<p>Was this it?</p>
<p>Was this going to be the end?</p>
<p>The answer came in a sudden high-pitched <em>blast</em> of a note so shocking that the spirits that had led the charge fell away from the mountaintop and fluttered into nothing on the biting breeze. The light around his body intensified even more, and even though part of Layton’s mind whispered to him that it wasn’t real, he still felt that staring too hard into this light would be the worst idea he’d ever had in his life.</p>
<p>“What’s going on?” asked Luke.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Layton replied. “Like I said, until today, I never even believed that spirits were real, let alone that they could be destroyed by a certain special man with a single violin!”</p>
<p>It wasn’t until this latest episode of musical intensity had evened out that Layton recognised the tune again. It was a reprise of the first melody he had played upon taking his place at the shrine, only louder, harsher, more desperate, more <em>furious</em> than before.</p>
<p>The spirits continued to fall away from the cliff, their bodies dissipating into mist. Did Phoenix see them? It was impossible to tell from this distance, and it would have been even if his body hadn’t been awash with that blinding blue light.</p>
<p>His playing was becoming even more forceful. It was as though he was using the Silver Violin to launch an all-out attack against this horde, and even with his only weapon being a single violin, it seemed as though he might somehow actually <em>succeed</em>-</p>
<p>-until a rush of the coldest wind Layton had ever felt flushed against his body, shocking him to the core. He stumbled under the rush and caught Luke by the sleeve before the poor boy fell into the Sacred Well, and tugged him back to his feet so that they both could see what on earth had just happened.</p>
<p>Another spirit had stepped onto the scene. The largest either of them had seen for the entire time they had been in this village. He towered over every single person near the Sacred Well, standing at least twice the height of the police station, and his translucent body was packed with muscle upon bulging muscle. His hair stood out from his head in a wild mess of frizz, his nose was flattened from repeated breaks, and his eyes were wide and staring straight ahead, not even noticing the people that still stood in his path.</p>
<p>He was dressed in roughly sewn leather trousers and a plaid that hung from his left shoulder was fastened at his hips by a shining brooch. The beard that trailed from his anvil-sharp jaw curled and coiled into spirals that spread over every inch of bare skin on his chest and arms, and even though his body was pale and see-through, it was somehow clear that those spirals traced on his skin were a vivid shade of blue.</p>
<p>He strode past the Professor without so much as a glance at the ground, let alone at the people who watched in wide-eyed awe as he strode through the snow, not even leaving a single footprint in his wake.</p>
<p>“Whoa…” Luke sighed.</p>
<p>“That must be…” Layton couldn’t bring himself to speak above a whisper. “…the Painted King himself… and he’s headed-”</p>
<p>The spirit’s long-legged strides led him straight into the rock bridge that bordered the village’s square, which he phased through as if neither of them existed.</p>
<p>He was on a direct course for the mountain that held the Pictish Shrine.</p>
<p>Even as slow as he was walking, at his size, he would reach it within moments.</p>
<p>“PHOENIX!” Layton had screamed before he even knew it.</p>
<p>Luke grabbed his hand again and they ran, followed by every other person who had stood dumbfounded at the Sacred Well, away from the pond and up the slope to where they could better see the immense spirit just in time for him to reach up and latch his massive hands onto the rock face.</p>
<p>All he could do was stand and watch. There was no possible way any of them would be able to take down a spirit this gigantic, even with all of their makeshift weapons combined.</p>
<p>“DADDY!”</p>
<p>A tiny caped figure was running across the plaza towards the cliff, followed by a dark-clad man and a pale-clad woman, and Luke hurried forward to catch the girl before she could get too close.</p>
<p>“Stop!” he shouted as she struggled. “Trucy, stop! There’s nothing you could do!”</p>
<p>“There has to be!” Trucy yelled, squirming and twisting in Luke’s grip. “DADDY!”</p>
<p>“Trucy, you CANNOT win against something like that!” Edgeworth snatched her up out of Luke’s grip.</p>
<p>Layton covered his eye, looking up the mountain only through the magatama, and struggled to continue breathing at the sight. Phoenix’s music was shining so brilliantly that the entire cliff face had become an immense beacon, almost completely drowning out the shape of the Painted King as he climbed, hand over hand, metre by painstaking metre, up the cliff face towards the Pictish Shrine.</p>
<p>The Professor couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so helpless.</p>
<p>The music was still going. Still building. He had no doubt now that Phoenix was moving towards a crescendo. The sound pierced out of the violin like a primal scream, turning shrill and paralysing as the Painted King finally dragged himself up to the top of the cliff, his translucent form thrown into sharp relief by the brilliant blue light still gleaming from Phoenix’s body-</p>
<p>-and then he struck out one final, deafening note.</p>
<p>All of the light flowed out of him at once, exploding like a supernova, and Layton’s vision was overwhelmed with white.</p>
<p>His ears trilled like a broken speaker.</p>
<p>He couldn’t see.</p>
<p>All he could feel was the cold wind against his skin and burning pain in his arm and back.</p>
<p>Breathe, he told himself.</p>
<p>Just <em>breathe</em>.</p>
<p>He blinked, hard and fast, and the world finally started to come back into focus. He could hear the whistle of the wind again. The darkness came back, punctuated only by the streetlamps, and he could make out the shapes of his friends and the villagers silhouetted against the snow…</p>
<p>…which was glowing blue.</p>
<p>Layton looked up.</p>
<p>For the second time in as many nights, the sky was awash with a brilliant aurora. From where he stood, the ribbons of light almost seemed to be spiralling out of the mountain that held the Pictish Shrine at its top.</p>
<p>The Painted King was nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>Nor were any members of his horde.</p>
<p>Aside from the wind and the breath of those nearby, the mountains were utterly silent.</p>
<p>The sword fell from his fingers as he rubbed his still-painful arm.</p>
<p>“Good grief…” he sighed, and it billowed out of his lips into steam.</p>
<p>“What happened?” he heard Trucy ask. “Did we win?”</p>
<p>Layton wasn’t sure what he could say.</p>
<p>Michaela slowly stepped into view, gazing in wonder at the mountaintop.</p>
<p>“It seems…” she breathed, “…it seems that the Painted King and his horde…”</p>
<p>Steam puffed out of her mouth in a soft little laugh.</p>
<p>“…they’ve finally been put to rest,” she said, and she turned to face the rest of the fighters who were gathered in the glowing snow. “We’ve <em>won</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Phoenix closed his eyes and released the deepest sigh he’d ever heaved in his entire life.</p>
<p>It was difficult not to drop to his knees from sheer relief. The only thing that kept him standing was the knowledge that the rock would hurt his legs.</p>
<p>When he opened his eyes again, he couldn’t help but smile. The sky was ablaze with another spectacular aurora, almost as though it was celebrating his auditory victory.</p>
<p>Although if he wanted to be honest with himself, he would be forced to admit that part of him regretted accepting this role and putting on this performance for the village.</p>
<p>If only because <em>how was he ever going to top it?</em></p>
<p>He dragged himself around, stepping out of the dents his predecessors had worn into the ground, and navigated through the cold shadows to where he had left the violin case. He kneeled down, trying to ignore the pulsing ache that spread through his body at the motion, and he rested the Silver Violin back in its lining and loosened the bowstrings before slotting the bow onto its hooks.</p>
<p>It felt like a crime to shut such an amazing instrument away from the world, but it had to be done. <em>He</em> had to be done. Michaela wasn’t kidding about the cold; one more minute up here and his saliva would freeze in his mouth.</p>
<p>Not to mention… the <em>height</em>…</p>
<p>He couldn’t help thinking as he pressed himself back up to his feet. Thinking about the figures that had crowded below him as he played, how his music seemed to blow them away, only for them to fade out into nothingness…</p>
<p>…and then that one spirit, that one immense face that had filled his entire vision as he had built up towards the crescendo, its bulging white eyes and its flyaway hair and its beard that spiralled into the whorls painted on its body…</p>
<p>…and the smile it had given him just before he had struck that final note…</p>
<p>He should have been disturbed when he’d seen that smile, but all he felt was comfort.</p>
<p>He was done.</p>
<p>It was <em>over</em>.</p>
<p>Making his way by the light of the aurora, Phoenix found the passage that led downwards and slowly, carefully, stepped down the stairs that would take him outside.</p>
<p>Either the passage was shorter than he remembered or he blacked out somewhere along the line, because it felt like barely any time had passed before he was brushing the ivy aside and stepping out into the fresh, non-musty night-time air.</p>
<p>From somewhere nearby, he heard the faint twitter of an owl.</p>
<p>Sir Edgar. No doubt he had been watching all of this unfold and hadn’t even once considered stepping in to help the citizens of Fatargan or those who were visiting.</p>
<p>Never mind. Not much an owl would be able to do.</p>
<p>After double-checking that his grip on the case was secure, he hurried down the slope, not even bothering with the stairs, and found the gap in the shadows that opened up to the village’s largest plaza.</p>
<p>“DADDY!”</p>
<p>The sound of his daughter’s voice carried him as much further as he needed to go, and he fell to his knees in the snow just in time to catch her as she threw herself into his arms.</p>
<p>“Trucy!” he gasped, hugging her just as tightly as she hugged him. “Trucy, thank <em>god!</em> Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Forget about me!” Trucy shoved herself back to look him in the eye. “Are <em>you</em> okay, Dad? Those ghosts went all the way up to you!”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, sweetie,” Phoenix reassured her, brushing stray locks of brunette out of her eyes. “None of them even got close to me. I got a good look at them though. Especially that Painted King guy. Believe it or not, he…”</p>
<p>He couldn’t help but trail off, remembering that strange smile.</p>
<p>Trucy, however, gave him a nod of encouragement.</p>
<p>“…he seemed happy,” he settled on.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright, that was incredible!” cried Luke as he and pretty much everybody else came running over to where he was kneeling.</p>
<p>“Might I say, Phoenix,” said Layton, offering his hand, “that your performance tonight was nothing short of <em>spectacular</em>. I certainly hope you don’t have any plans to halt in your practise.”</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but smile as the Professor helped him to his feet.</p>
<p>“Honestly, Wright,” Edgeworth tutted, “if you’re going to play the same instrument as I do, the least you could do is allow me the courtesy of being better than you!”</p>
<p>The sound of his genuine frustration was almost enough to make Phoenix burst out laughing.</p>
<p>“And that’s twice you’ve saved my life in one week!” Edgeworth furiously added. “How am I supposed to mock you now?”</p>
<p>“You could just…” Luke said weakly, “…<em>not</em> mock him?”</p>
<p>“Luke, it’s Edgeworth,” Phoenix pointed out. “Asking him not to mock someone is like asking him not to breathe.”</p>
<p>“Mr Wright?”</p>
<p>His friends stepped aside as Michaela approached, a blackened sword hanging from her fingers, staring at Phoenix as though he had just materialised out of thin air. Her hair was a mess and her glasses looked dirty, and the hems of her coat and skirt were stained with mud, but aside from that, she seemed to be unharmed.</p>
<p>“Ms Skellig,” Phoenix said, “I’m glad to see that you’re-”</p>
<p>“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Michaela asked.</p>
<p>Phoenix wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.</p>
<p>Was she somehow angry at him?</p>
<p>“…uh…” How the heck was he supposed to respond?</p>
<p>But before he could figure out how confused he was supposed to be, Michaela’s expression softened into a smile.</p>
<p>“You’ve put the Painted King and his horde to rest,” she explained to him in that same gentle, musical tone she had spoken with the first time they had met her. “Do you understand? You’ve set our village free!”</p>
<p>So she <em>wasn’t</em> mad at him.</p>
<p>No doubt she had just been overwhelmed by everything that had happened within the past 24 hours alone.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Phoenix sighed in relief. “Um… good.”</p>
<p>“As far as I can tell,” said Michaela, “there’s only one thing left for us to do. Uncle Angus?”</p>
<p>She stepped aside to reveal the judge, standing behind her in a long black robe that Phoenix saw was definitely just a bathrobe, cradling his little toffee hammer in his hand.</p>
<p>“Of course, Michaela,” he said.</p>
<p>He turned to face the rest of the village that stood around them.</p>
<p>“This day is one that will truly go down in our village’s history,” he declared to Fatargan. “In light of all that has happened today, and all that we’ve learned both in and outside the courtroom, I hereby find the defendants, Professor Hershel Layton and Mr Miles Edgeworth…”</p>
<p>He thrust that little hammer into the air, where it glinted in the aurora’s light.</p>
<p>“NOT GUILTY!”</p>
<p>And that was all that was needed for everybody gathered to applaud and whoop and cheer with joy, with those closest to Layton and Edgeworth giving them celebratory slaps on the back and causing Layton to grimace in poorly-hidden pain.</p>
<p>“About bloody time,” Edgeworth sighed at a volume only Phoenix could hear.</p>
<p>“I believe this calls for a celebration!” called Michaela, leading the cheering to quieten down. “We must all prepare for a bright future outside the reach of the Painted King!”</p>
<p>“Can we do that tomorrow?” asked Phoenix, struggling not to yawn. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m totally wiped out.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” Michaela gasped in shock. “Yes, of course! Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow, we celebrate.”</p>
<p>“Don’t any of you overeat or undercook!” shouted Dr Wallace. “I’m not having my clinic filled with gastro cases!”</p>
<p>“Drinks will be on me!” cheered Jack.</p>
<p>“I can’t wait to reclaim the night!” Michaela added happily.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The five saviours of the village walked through the snow by the aurora’s light to the cottage they had made their temporary home.</p>
<p>Trucy and Edgeworth pulled the mattresses off the beds to arrange in the middle of the lounge area while Luke lit a fire in the grate. Layton revealed the wounds he’d received during the battle to Phoenix, who chewed him out for his recklessness before cleaning off the dried blood at the kitchen sink.</p>
<p>They changed into clean, dry pyjamas and relaxed in front of the fire. They caught each other up on what had happened during that fight. Edgeworth told Luke and Layton about the first time Phoenix had cross-examined a parrot. Layton and Luke told Edgeworth about the <em>second</em> time Phoenix had cross-examined a parrot. Trucy laughed at her father’s embarrassed face and he hypocritically chastised her for staying up late.</p>
<p>Phoenix was asked what had happened. If he knew why the horde’s behaviour had changed in conjunction with the music he played. Why they had halted their attack and begun to dance instead before rushing to the Pictish Shrine to be annihilated by his aura.</p>
<p>A few moments of thought passed before Phoenix explained that he had begun his playing mainly focused on getting things over with, but upon seeing the violence his friends were suffering, he wondered if a calmer tune might slow things down. When he had seen the spirits’ change from destruction to formation, he altered the tune again, realising that somehow, in a way he couldn’t explain, they were under his control.</p>
<p>And when he did, he gave them all a simple command within his mind:</p>
<p>
  <em>“Come to me.”</em>
</p>
<p>So they had. They flew to him in droves.</p>
<p>Close enough that he could give every single one of them the same fate he had dealt to the last spirit he had faced, back in that courtroom, in his final trial before his life fell apart.</p>
<p>Edgeworth shared Michaela’s theory about Phoenix, to which he had no argument.</p>
<p>He thought back to the Silver Violin again. How it felt to play. How it felt just to hold it in his hands.</p>
<p>Layton and Edgeworth would have mentioned if they had felt that too, wouldn’t they?</p>
<p>Once he was done sharing his side of the story, Phoenix lay down on the mattress and pulled a duvet over his yawning daughter’s body.</p>
<p>Maybe lawyering wasn’t all he had, he considered.</p>
<p>Maybe there really was something special about him, intangible though it may be.</p>
<p>No matter. He was too tired to think about it at that moment.</p>
<p>And as the fire died down into glowing red embers and the aurora wavered its last in the night sky, the five impromptu adventurers fell asleep for their final night in Fatargan.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The wonderful art is by kireiscorner on tumblr!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, as Michaela had promised, was one entirely reserved for the celebration of Fatargan’s newfound freedom.</p>
<p>All the village gathered in and around the King’s Arms as Jack and Henry fried up every egg, every strip of bacon and every sausage they had for the biggest breakfast this side of Hadrian’s Wall. Nobody listened to Dr Wallace’s warnings as they filled their bellies with hot, greasy food. Phoenix had to admit; it was the best breakfast he’d had in a <em>very</em> long time.</p>
<p>In blatant defiance of the innkeeper’s protests, Trucy gathered all of her tables together to form a stage, which she stood upon to declare – rusty swords in hand – that she wanted to show all of Fatargan the wonders of Troupe Gramarye.</p>
<p>She asked for an assistant from the audience.</p>
<p>Nobody volunteered.</p>
<p>Not that it mattered to her. She didn’t even hesitate before latching onto Luke’s arm and dragging him up onto her stage.</p>
<p>Luke begged the Professor for help, but Layton simply smiled and provided dramatic instrumentation for the performance with the Silver Violin while Edgeworth rested a hand over his heart, saluting Luke’s sacrifice.</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his talented daughter. He had no idea where that box had come from, but she definitely seemed proud to have locked Luke in there and her enthusiasm as she brandished those swords was palpable.</p>
<p>He sat down at Jack’s bar and picked up an orange and blue can boldly labelled IRN-BRU. He didn’t even want to begin to speculate about how that was meant to be pronounced, but as he popped it open and took a sniff at its contents, Michaela sat down beside him and snatched up a can for herself.</p>
<p>He took that opportunity to look around and take in the sheer exuberance that radiated from every person in the room. Even Edgeworth, insistent as he had been about refusing to be the Minstrel, was taking turns with Layton in using that violin to add some drama to Trucy’s performance.</p>
<p>“You know, I…” he said to Michaela, “I’m pretty surprised at this.”</p>
<p>“What’s so surprising, Mr Wright?” Michaela asked casually, smiling as she popped her can open.</p>
<p>“I hope you don’t mind me saying,” said Phoenix, “but… your mom.”</p>
<p>Michaela hesitated with the can halfway to her lips.</p>
<p>“Shouldn’t you guys have a funeral?” Phoenix pointed out. “She was a pretty major part of this village, after all.”</p>
<p>The smile fled away from Michaela’s face. She gently lowered the open can to the bar, staring into its contents with a thoughtful frown.</p>
<p>Phoenix took a look into his own can. The drink was bright orange.</p>
<p>“I will,” Michaela said. “Even as monstrous a person as she was, Mother was still a person, and she deserves to be laid to rest just as much as the Painted King.”</p>
<p>She raised her can again, managing to pull her smile back up.</p>
<p>“We’ll have time to mourn,” she told Phoenix. “For now, let us celebrate our freedom.”</p>
<p>She held her can up to Phoenix, who clanked his own can against hers and finally took a sip from it.</p>
<p>He didn’t know what he had expected from a drink called IRN-BRU, but it tasted like…</p>
<p>…like <em>bubblegum.</em></p>
<p>The can said it was a ‘unique blend of mixed fruit flavours’ but the drink itself tasted like fizzy bubblegum. How the hell did that even happen?!</p>
<p>Not that Phoenix was complaining.</p>
<p>Scotland, he considered as he took another sip, was an unbelievably <em>weird </em>place.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“But see!” called Trucy. “Even though I stabbed two swords, three fire pokers and a spade into this box…”</p>
<p>She opened its lid and Luke fell out, slumping to the floor with a gasp of relief as the crowd around him cheered, and Layton trilled out a quick little “ta-da!” jingle on the violin.</p>
<p>“That was…” the boy panted. “That was <em>so</em> weird!”</p>
<p>“Here you are, mate.” Jack presented a plate to his face. “A bacon sandwich will ground you in reality.”</p>
<p>To nobody’s surprise, Luke immediately straightened up, sitting on the edge of the ‘stage’ so that he could take his first massive bite out of the sandwich.</p>
<p>Smiling in satisfaction, Jack walked over to where Layton was packing away the Silver Violin.</p>
<p>“What time does the bus get here again?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Oh dear.” Layton paused midway through loosening the bow. “Have we really overstayed our welcome so badly?”</p>
<p>“No, it’s not that!” Jack retorted. “I just want to know the time is all, you berk!”</p>
<p>Layton smiled to himself as he finished packing the violin away.</p>
<p>“It should arrive around half past four in the afternoon,” he told the innkeeper. “Have no fear, Ms Hill. We are all safely packed and prepared to depart.”</p>
<p>“Like I said, I was just checking,” said Jack. “I was hoping we could get a photo of you lot before you headed off.”</p>
<p>“A photo?” asked Edgeworth. “What, of all five of us?”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course!” said Jack. “You’ll be the only people at this party who we’re all probably never going to see again!”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t know about that, Ms Hill,” Layton said with a polite little tip of his hat. “I assure you that the moment I arrive back at Gressenheller, I shall begin preparations for an investigative expedition to these mountains.”</p>
<p>He closed the case with a snap.</p>
<p>“There’s still plenty left to learn about the Painted King,” he pointed out, “and I wish to solve every last puzzle he laid out for those who would follow in his wake.”</p>
<p>A bristle of the hair on the back of his neck alerted him to the fact that he was being stared at, and he looked up to meet the dark grey gaze of a very confused-looking prosecutor.</p>
<p>“Professor,” Edgeworth said, “I respect you.”</p>
<p>Layton cocked an eyebrow at him.</p>
<p>“But?” he prompted.</p>
<p>“But you’re an absolute madman!”</p>
<p>It was difficult not to laugh at the statement.</p>
<p>“So I’ve been told,” Layton replied, and he pressed into the crowd to try to track down Phoenix.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Jack had gathered them all into a neat arrangement in front of her inn.</p>
<p>Trucy stood at the front, grinning and cuddling the violin case to her chest, and Phoenix kneeled beside her and hugged her shoulders. Edgeworth stood behind them, arms crossed, only smiling because he had been asked to, and Layton and Luke stood on either side of them, proudly tipping their hats to  the camera.</p>
<p>The moment the photo had been taken, Phoenix swept Trucy up into a massive hug to her embarrassed delight, and Jack hurried inside to print the photo out.</p>
<p>Hours had passed since then, and now the quintet were walking through the sunlit snow, each of them towing a suitcase behind them, Phoenix cradling the violin case in one arm. They were followed by Michaela, who had insisted on escorting them even though they told her they would be absolutely fine finding their own way to the bus stop.</p>
<p>The entire inn full of villagers had waved and cheered goodbye to them all, smiling and thanking them to the point that it was almost difficult to leave, which was probably why Michaela had decided to follow along with them. To mitigate that parting cheer and finally bring it to an end.</p>
<p>So she walked with them, smiling at the sound of their casual conversations, up the steps by the library and past the post office and the pristine snow-covered rectangle of the football field.</p>
<p>As they drew close to the bus stop, Michaela asked for them to wait a minute, and when they did, she presented the group with a fanned-out stack of four photographs of them smiling in front of the King’s Arms’ façade.</p>
<p>“Here,” she said. “Please don’t forget about us once you’re back across the pond.”</p>
<p>Everyone over the age of 14 took one of the photos, and Layton slipped his into his pocket for safekeeping.</p>
<p>“One way or another, Ms Skellig,” said Edgeworth, “this trip has wound up being rather unforgettable.”</p>
<p>“Oh crud!” Phoenix exclaimed. “I just realised we still have-”</p>
<p>He awkwardly balanced the violin case on one hand and jabbed it in Michaela’s direction.</p>
<p>“Here,” he said. “So you can’t have me arrested for theft.”</p>
<p>Michaela took the case from his hand and cradled it against her elbow, running her fingers over the smooth leather surface.</p>
<p>Wasn’t she supposed to say thank you?</p>
<p>Or ask if he was sure?</p>
<p>At the very least, she should have said <em>something</em>.</p>
<p>But before Layton had a chance to ask if everything was alright, she passed it back to Phoenix.</p>
<p>“I want you to keep it.”</p>
<p>Phoenix stared from the violin case to her steel-coloured eyes in obvious bafflement.</p>
<p>“Whoa…” Trucy sighed.</p>
<p>“Seriously?” asked Phoenix.</p>
<p>“It’s true that we have no need for the Silver Violin anymore,” Michaela explained, “but I dread to imagine it sitting in a museum, never to be touched or played ever again. It just wouldn’t be fair to the people who worked so hard to create it.”</p>
<p>She pressed it into Phoenix’s chest, leaving him no choice but to grab it again.</p>
<p>“Please take it, Mr Wright!” she insisted. “Take it as a token of my gratitude! And don’t ever let it gather dust. After what you’ve done for Fatargan, you deserve it.”</p>
<p>Phoenix somehow managed to avoid stumbling over the force of the case being pressed into his body, and he quickly wrapped his arm around it to keep it from falling into the snow.</p>
<p>And once the shock had passed, he couldn’t help but smile.</p>
<p>“You had better not sell it either,” Layton added.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t planning to!” Phoenix snapped.</p>
<p>“Let me take it!” Trucy jumped up and pulled the case out of her father’s arm. “If you want to sell this violin, Daddy, you’ll have to sell me too!”</p>
<p>Michaela giggled at the little girl’s determination.</p>
<p>“And thank <em>you</em>, Professor Layton,” she said, catching the Professor’s attention. “You’re owed just as much a debt of gratitude for finding the truth about the Painted King and waking everybody up to that truth. You must have known how dangerous it would be to expose yourself in the courtroom like that, so the fact that you took that chance anyway…”</p>
<p>She took a deep breath, looking as though she could burst into tears.</p>
<p>“You are a very courageous man,” she told him.</p>
<p>Layton tipped his hat to her, reminding himself that a gentleman didn’t allow pride to go to his head.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Ms Skellig,” he told her back.</p>
<p>Michaela clasped her hands to her chest.</p>
<p>“I owe you my thanks as well, Mr Edgeworth,” she said, “as well as my heartfelt apologies. I sincerely believed you were acting as the Minstrel on your own behalf, I swear! If I had known Mother had coerced you into the role-”</p>
<p>“At this point,” Edgeworth interjected, “I’m just grateful to be alive.”</p>
<p>He crossed his arms and glared down his nose at her.</p>
<p>“However,” he said, “from what I’ve seen of <em>you</em>, Ms Skellig, I suggest at least enrolling in an online class or two. Your courtroom prowess needs some refinement, but don’t forget about the idea of prosecuting just because you don’t have <em>me</em> to look up to anymore.”</p>
<p>It was difficult not to laugh at such backhanded encouragement. Michaela especially giggled in embarrassment.</p>
<p>“And…” She cleared her throat to calm down. “Luke? Trucy?”</p>
<p>“Ms Michaela?” Luke stood to attention beside the Professor.</p>
<p>“Yes, Ms Skellig?” Trucy peered up at her from behind the violin case.</p>
<p>Michaela smiled down at them both.</p>
<p>“You are both very talented,” she told them. “Please don’t let those talents go to waste, whatever you do. Thank you both for your determination.”</p>
<p>Luke tipped his hat in a near-perfect mimicry of the Professor.</p>
<p>“It was my pleasure, Ms Michaela,” he told her.</p>
<p>“The wonders of Troupe Gramarye are numerous and never-ending!” Trucy bounced happily on her heels.</p>
<p>Her dad gave her a fond pat on her head.</p>
<p>“Mr Wright,” said Michaela. “Professor…”</p>
<p>“Yes?” said Layton.</p>
<p>Before he had any chance to respond, Michaela threw herself upon him and Phoenix, pulling them both into a tight hug.</p>
<p>“Thank you so much for opening my eyes.”</p>
<p>Layton threw Phoenix a look to make sure he didn’t think about making some clever joke, and he patted the grateful woman on the back.</p>
<p>“No problem,” Phoenix replied, hugging her in return around the shoulders.</p>
<p>“I do hope to see you again soon, Ms Skellig,” Layton told her.</p>
<p>Once she’d had her fill of the hug, she stepped out of their arms and bade them both goodbye, before she turned away and walked back up the slope to return to her village.</p>
<p>Her long white coat made her nearly invisible against the snow.</p>
<p>It was almost hard to tell when she rounded the corner and disappeared from view.</p>
<p>Layton took that as their cue to continue their journey to the bus stop.</p>
<p>A thump from nearby caught his attention; Phoenix had elbowed Edgeworth in the arm.</p>
<p>“You sure you aren’t going to press charges?” he asked.</p>
<p>“What would be the point?” Edgeworth replied. “The woman who abducted me is dead and everybody else here was almost as much a victim as I was.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Michaela didn’t even know what her mom was doing!” Trucy pointed out. “And a parent should ALWAYS let their kids in on their schemes! Right, Daddy?”</p>
<p>Phoenix laughed as she poked him in the side with the violin case, and he pried it out of her hands so that she’d stop annoying him with it.</p>
<p>“Provided the scheme is a good one and nobody gets hurt,” he said, “then of course!”</p>
<p>“What about the Yatagarasu, Professor?” asked Luke. “Do you want to try to catch them for blackmailing you?”</p>
<p>Layton pressed his hand into his pocket where, beside the photo he’d been given, there sat the overstuffed envelope he’d carried for this entire journey.</p>
<p>Now that he thought about it, the fact that this envelope was so thick with papers indicated a rather juvenile mindset. He couldn’t help but wonder just how old this Yatagarasu person actually was.</p>
<p>“I must admit,” he said, “I can’t say the thought had crossed my mind. They did turn out to be correct about Mr Edgeworth’s disappearance, after all. Not only that, but thanks to their message, we dismantled the machinations of a rather despicable person trying to use the souls of the long-dead for her own personal gain.”</p>
<p>He glanced back over his shoulder, but Michaela was still nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>He knew it was wrong to speak ill of the dead, but considering the person he was speaking of had tried to frame him for murder…</p>
<p>“Since we recovered Mr Edgeworth in the process,” he said, “I’d say this was a win-win situation.”</p>
<p>Luke shrugged.</p>
<p>“If you say so, Professor,” he said.</p>
<p>“Ah, a payphone!” Edgeworth dropped his dusty suitcase in the snow and ran over to the bus shelter. “Does anybody have a pound or two? There are some people in London who need to know I’m still alive.”</p>
<p>He unhooked the tarnished receiver and pointed at it to emphasise his point.</p>
<p>“Oh! I picked up a coin on our first day here!” Trucy piped up, digging into her bag.</p>
<p>“I found one a couple of days ago,” Phoenix added. “Give me a sec.”</p>
<p>Layton approached the payphone as they dug into their pockets. It sat nestled in the bus shelter’s corner, tucked against the wall, its buttons chunky and worn down and its display eroded beyond readability. It wasn’t hard to tell why they hadn’t seen it upon their arrival in the village.</p>
<p>But judging by Edgeworth’s smile as he held the receiver to his ear, it was still very much in functioning order.</p>
<p>“It certainly would have been nice to know <em>this</em> was here a few days ago,” Layton commented.</p>
<p>“Don’t beat yourself up, Professor,” said Luke. “You were a fugitive up until yesterday, remember?”</p>
<p>The Professor couldn’t help but laugh at the notion of him, the respected and renowned Professor Layton, being wanted by the law for <em>murder</em>. It would definitely be a fun rumour to fly around the campus for a few days. If he knew anything about what university students were like, he wouldn’t be surprised if that rumour caused enrolment in his classes to skyrocket.</p>
<p>“Yes, I was,” he chuckled, “wasn’t I?”</p>
<p>Phoenix and Trucy moved as one, each pressing a £2 coin into Edgeworth’s waiting hand.</p>
<p>“Thank you!” he said happily. “Hopefully I can get this over and done with before the bus arrives.”</p>
<p>He slotted the coins into the payphone and jabbed in the numbers, having to press <em>very</em> hard for the input to be registered, and then he pressed the receiver to his ear, slotted his other hand into his pocket and waited.</p>
<p>For just a moment, his eyes met Layton’s, and he shrugged.</p>
<p>“Hello?” he said eventually. “Am I speaking with Chief Inspector Chelmy of Scotland Yard?”</p>
<p>“Inspector Chelmy?!” Luke gasped in shock.</p>
<p>“So I see he’s still working there,” Layton commented with a smile.</p>
<p>“This is Miles Edgeworth of the Los Angeles Prosecutor’s office,” Edgeworth continued. “My apologies for dropping out of contact, but circumstances arose that were…”</p>
<p>He trailed off, frowning into the receiver.</p>
<p>“What?” he spluttered. “That’s absurd! As you can quite plainly hear, I am <em>not dead!</em>”</p>
<p>Oh dear. Layton couldn’t help being rather embarrassed at the sound of that. He should have known that disappearing from the wider world for over a month would cause the authorities to believe Mr Edgeworth was dead.</p>
<p>“Put him on the line immediately or I’ll have some <em>very</em> unkind words for your superiors!” Edgeworth snapped.</p>
<p>He huffed through his nose and shuffled from foot to foot. Behind them, Layton could hear Phoenix sniggering into his scarf.</p>
<p>Edgeworth sighed and slumped against the shelter wall.</p>
<p>“Yes, it’s me,” he said.</p>
<p>Before he could get another word out, he wrenched his head back from the receiver, and Layton could hear somebody screaming and crying on the other end of the line.</p>
<p>By the sound of it, that person was a fully grown man, perhaps closer to his age than to Edgeworth.</p>
<p>“Of course I’m alive, you fool!” Edgeworth spat into the receiver. “You really think I’d do something as silly as die in a foreign land?”</p>
<p>He huffed again, but his stern expression softened as he listened to the other person speaking.</p>
<p>Layton smiled again. It seemed that in spite of that fearsome behaviour, this was a person Edgeworth was rather fond of.</p>
<p>“I see,” he said. “I’m very sorry you’ve been put through that.”</p>
<p>He sighed and pressed a hand to his face.</p>
<p>“Not to worry, Detective,” he groaned. “I’ll see to it that your next salary negotiation has a positive conclusion for you.”</p>
<p>He managed a wry smile.</p>
<p>“Yes, this time you’ll be able to afford the <em>gourmet </em>instant ramen!”</p>
<p>That smile didn’t last for very long.</p>
<p>“That was a joke,” he said uneasily. “My apologies.”</p>
<p>He pinched his brow with another huff through his nose.</p>
<p>“I should hopefully be able to check in at the Yard sometime tomorrow,” he went on. “Most likely in the afternoon, because this entire experience has been utterly exhausting from beginning to end.”</p>
<p>His hand slumped against his hip.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you then,” he said. “Could you please put the Inspector back on the line? …thank you.”</p>
<p>“Daddy,” said Trucy, “do you think-”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Phoenix said, “I think that was Detective Gumshoe.”</p>
<p>“Detective <em>What</em>-shoe?!” demanded the baffled Luke.</p>
<p>“Long story,” Phoenix replied.</p>
<p>“No, I understand why you would leap to that conclusion, Inspector,” said Edgeworth. “My disappearance <em>was</em> rather unceremonious, after all.”</p>
<p>His eyes suddenly widened, and Layton picked up on the faint sound of beeping.</p>
<p>“Ah, it seems my money’s run out,” Edgeworth explained. “I’ll hopefully be dropping in at the Yard sometime tomorrow. Should be ready for debriefing by then.”</p>
<p>He sighed again.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said. “Goodbye.”</p>
<p>He slapped the receiver back on its hook and slammed his forehead against the shelter wall.</p>
<p>“Ridiculous!” he groaned.</p>
<p>“Don’t tell me they accused Detective Gumshoe of murdering you!” cried Phoenix.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I have to,” Edgeworth replied, “because that’s what they went and did.”</p>
<p>He turned around and leaned against the wall with folded arms.</p>
<p>“I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said, “as he was the last person I was in contact with before I departed for Fatargan, but how on earth could they have ever thought that idiot was capable of murdering someone in cold blood?”</p>
<p>“Is this a person you’re close with, Mr Edgeworth?” asked Layton.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Edgeworth responded, “although I can’t say that it’s by choice.”</p>
<p>He pressed his hand to his face again, pacing away from the wall.</p>
<p>“I just know that the moment he sees me,” he said, “that ignoramus is going to try to suffocate me with a hug.”</p>
<p>Phoenix pressed his scarf over his mouth in an effort to suppress his laughter.</p>
<p>“But he’ll be happy to see you!” Trucy pointed out. “Uncle Miles, you have to hang out with him when you get back!”</p>
<p>“Oh?” Edgeworth eyed her curiously. “And why would I do that, young lady?”</p>
<p>“Because spending time with friends is good for you!” said Trucy. “Especially after you’ve been alone for a long time!”</p>
<p>Not even a man as stoic as Edgeworth could avoid smiling at that, and he gave the little girl an affectionate little pat on the head.</p>
<p>“…wait.”</p>
<p>Phoenix, however, was frowning at his daughter.</p>
<p>“Daddy?” she said innocently.</p>
<p>“Trucy, are you…” Layton swore he could see pieces clicking together inside his friend’s mind, until at long last, the final fragment fell into place. “Is that why you dragged me along with the Professor?!”</p>
<p>Layton pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. He wasn’t very successful, but he at least managed it better than Luke did.</p>
<p>Trucy maintained wide-eyed innocence and swivelled her foot from side to side in the snow.</p>
<p>“…maybe,” she said.</p>
<p>Phoenix was <em>aghast</em>.</p>
<p>“You diverted our vacation, pulled me out to the middle of nowhere, got me wrapped up in some insane ghost cult that was defeated by the power of music,” he ranted, “because <em>you wanted me to spend time with friends?!</em>”</p>
<p>Trucy just tapped on her chin in a mocking display of thought.</p>
<p>“Pretty much,” she replied.</p>
<p>Even after her scheme had been fully exposed, this little girl still had the sheer <em>nerve</em> to behave as sweet and innocent as she possibly could?</p>
<p>Layton waited, keeping his eyes on Phoenix. What in the world was he going to do?</p>
<p>Laugh, apparently.</p>
<p>He threw back his head and laughed so hard that tears pricked in his eyes and he had to support himself on the side of the bus shelter to keep himself from falling into the snow.</p>
<p>He gasped and panted for breath, wiping his eyes as he looked back down at his daughter.</p>
<p>“I don’t know wh…” He choked out one last chuckle. “What the hell am I going to do with you, Trucy-Goosy?”</p>
<p>He patted her on the head too, although Trucy didn’t look half as innocent anymore.</p>
<p>“Ground me?” she asked nervously.</p>
<p>“Well…” Phoenix took a moment to think. “…yeah, but only for about a month. In its own messed-up way, this ended up being pretty fun.”</p>
<p>“Fun?” Luke just stared at him as Phoenix withdrew his hand. “Mr Wright, all I feel is tired!”</p>
<p>“Not to worry, Luke,” Layton said happily. “I’ve booked us all a pair of two-bed compartments on the Caledonian Express. We can drift off to sleep on the rails and by the time we wake up, we’ll be safely back home.”</p>
<p>“And <em>we</em> can safely continue our vacation!” cheered Trucy. “Right, Daddy?”</p>
<p>Contrary to what Layton had expected, Phoenix frowned and scratched the back of his head.</p>
<p>“To be honest, I…” He looked everywhere but at the Professor, a red flush creeping onto his cheeks. “…I kind of wanted to hang out with Hershel a bit more…”</p>
<p>“But of course!” Layton replied. “I’d be delighted to have you, Phoenix!”</p>
<p>“Man, my friends back in America are <em>never</em> going to believe this,” sighed Luke, sitting down on his suitcase. “I’m glad Ms Skellig gave us these photos or else they’d think I’m making everything up!”</p>
<p>“Given the insanity of the past few days,” said Edgeworth, “I could hardly blame them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>They didn’t have long to wait before the bus showed up, and the driver was quite surprised to see the same passengers he had carried five days ago now departing with a different sarcastic asshole than the one they had arrived with.</p>
<p>Phoenix sat back in his seat, cuddling his daughter, and listened to the Professor and Luke telling Edgeworth the same fantastic stories he’d told Phoenix a few days before. Edgeworth was a far better audience than Phoenix had anticipated: he gasped, he sighed, he tutted, he rolled his eyes and when he learned the truth about the Golden Apple, he <em>definitely</em> had a tear in his eye.</p>
<p>Trucy asked him if he was okay and Edgeworth, of course, lied and wiped it away.</p>
<p>Too late. Everybody had seen it.</p>
<p>Now the entire world would know that Miles Edgeworth had <em>feelings</em>.</p>
<p>As soon as he got the chance, Edgeworth told a story of his own. He told Layton, Luke, Phoenix and Trucy about who this mysterious Yatagarasu person actually was. From what he said, this person was a young woman; a seventeen- no, <em>nineteen</em>-year-old, Edgeworth corrected himself, by the name of Kay. She had branded herself the Yatagarasu after taking the role from her late father and reclaiming it from a spy who had tried to besmirch the name, apparently determined to make the world understand that she was a <em>noble</em> thief. A self-proclaimed modern-day Robin Hood.</p>
<p>Layton warned Edgeworth that she would have to be careful operating in England or else she’d find herself slapped with an ASBO, and again, nobody tried to explain to Phoenix what an ASBO actually was.</p>
<p>And as soon as <em>he</em> got the opportunity, Phoenix regaled Layton and Luke with tales from his time in the courtroom. Tales he’d failed to tell them the last time they had all been in the same country at the same time. He told them about the master thief that <em>he</em> had managed to expose the truth about, even in the face of a bizarre private detective and a half-blind prosecutor who used Phoenix’s face as a basketball hoop and full coffee mugs as a ball.</p>
<p>They found it a lot funnier than he would have preferred. Not only that, but Edgeworth kept leaping in to correct him on certain details he’d hoped he could get away with exaggerating. It was only <em>one</em> coffee mug he suffered in that trial, he pointed out, not <em>three</em>. Phoenix got his revenge, however, when Edgeworth got something wrong and then <em>he</em> could jump in to correct him, pulling his friend’s ego back down to the ground where it belonged. He’d been in Europe during that ridiculous trial and hadn’t even met Godot in person, and <em>certainly</em> hadn’t given him a piece of his mind following that caffeinated assault.</p>
<p>He told all of them, Edgeworth included, about the insanity he had returned home to the last time he had visited England for what Trucy had called ‘that League of Attorneys thing’. He told them about how some wannabe mobster had taken advantage of his absence to impersonate him in a courtroom and make sure a woman he was framing for murder got convicted on false charges that <em>Phoenix</em> would be blamed for.</p>
<p>It was a fiasco he hadn’t even found out about until over a week after he had come home, and even then, his doppelganger had apparently been so convincing that the woman whose name he now wanted to clear had been <em>extremely </em>angry with him and very hesitant to trust the skills he had worked so hard to earn.</p>
<p>He’d wanted to punch something by the time he’d won that appeal, although he made sure not to tell a gentleman like the Professor about that detail.</p>
<p>The bus pulled up at its stop at around six o’clock in the evening, by which point, the sun had already long since set. They found their way to Aberdeen's main station by streetlight and shop light, walking rather than running this time, and Layton had to steer Luke away from a bakery that they passed on their way.</p>
<p>Part of Phoenix wished that they <em>had</em> stopped. The smell of cooking pastry wafted into his face as he walked past and it made his stomach growl something furious. Even the Professor heard it, but he reassured him and Luke that they would have plenty to eat on the train.</p>
<p>Then he learned that they wouldn’t even be able to board the train until a quarter past nine in the evening.</p>
<p>He tried to hide his red face after that, although he brightened up when Luke suggested they get kebabs or fish and chips to pass the time.</p>
<p>Phoenix got to try a kebab. It wasn’t quite what he had expected, even with Luke explaining beforehand that it was Turkish style. Every kebab he was familiar with had been meat and vegetables on a skewer, but this was more like an open burrito than anything else.</p>
<p>He wasn’t going to complain. It was pretty good for cheap junk food, even with Edgeworth insisting that he wasn’t anywhere near drunk enough to enjoy it.</p>
<p>Even after they had eaten, Luke insisted on getting fish and chips as well, and Layton vehemently disagreed with the idea that he needed it and Trucy laughed at Luke’s desperation to be a gluttonous monster.</p>
<p>Part of Phoenix wished that they had somewhere to leave their luggage, if only for an hour or two, so that they could kill time by exploring the city. This was Aberdeen, after all; one of the most famous cities in Scotland! Who <em>wouldn’t</em> want to have a look around?</p>
<p>He thought back to Athena, the sweet young lady he’d defended on the train ride here five days ago, who was on her way to study at university in spite of only being twelve years old.</p>
<p>Such a lovely kid.</p>
<p>He hoped she was okay. Hoped she hadn’t forgotten about his suggestion to use her sensory and analytical talents in the courtroom.</p>
<p>It would be nice to see her again someday.</p>
<p>Nothing could have compared to his relief as he finally stepped onto the train, luggage and Trucy in tow, and tracked down the compartments they would be sleeping in. He’d never seen a train carriage with an actual honest-to-god bed before, but right now, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever encountered in his entire life.</p>
<p>He finally got to put his luggage down, just in time for Edgeworth to lay claim to the top bunk and refuse to budge, stating that with only two beds, Phoenix was going to have to share with Trucy and there was <em>no way</em> they should risk the bed collapsing under their combined weight.</p>
<p>Phoenix couldn’t really argue with that.</p>
<p>Well, he tried to, but Edgeworth just rolled over to set his back to him, and it didn’t take long for Phoenix to realise he had fallen asleep.</p>
<p>He settled down with Trucy, hoping they could talk about the previous night and he could make sure she was definitely, totally, <em>completely</em> okay, but he thought better of it when he saw her yawn and realised she was probably even more tired than he or Edgeworth were.</p>
<p>So he tucked her in and let her rest, staying by her side until she had drifted off to sleep, right as the train’s engine kicked into gear and they moved out of the station.</p>
<p>Once he was sure she was asleep, he stood up and stretched his back.</p>
<p>Somehow he felt like taking a walk. His eyes were heavy, but his body was buzzing.</p>
<p>The hallway was shadowed when he stepped out of his compartment, but the moon overhead was bright enough that he could almost see in colour.</p>
<p>And he could very clearly see the small hat-clad man who stood under a window, a book propped open in his hands. By the looks of things, he had almost finished it.</p>
<p>“Reading by moonlight?” Phoenix asked. “Even for you, that’s weirdly poetic.”</p>
<p>Layton glanced up at him and smiled at the comment.</p>
<p>“I didn’t want to keep the lights on in our compartment,” he explained, and he folded his book closed over his bookmark. “I can’t deprive Luke of sleep just so that I can finish my book.”</p>
<p>“So he settled down okay?” Phoenix leaned against the window beside him.</p>
<p>The Professor gave him a gentle chuckle.</p>
<p>“He’s sleeping like a log,” he replied. “How about Trucy and Mr Edgeworth?”</p>
<p>“Two beds means I’m sharing with Trucy,” Phoenix explained, “but she and Edgeworth seem to be sleeping alright.”</p>
<p>Layton’s smile became indecipherable.</p>
<p>“And you?” he asked.</p>
<p>Phoenix wasn’t quite sure what to say.</p>
<p>He thought back over the madness that had unfolded over the past few days. His daughter commandeering their vacation to force him to spend time with his old friends, being shipped out to a mountain-bound village, getting forced back into the trials he had been trying so, <em>so</em> hard to forget about and wishing he could just get on with his life…</p>
<p>…up until he had, by some miracle, managed to reconnect with this man in a way he hadn’t even thought was possible for him to do with anyone anymore.</p>
<p>He resisted the urge to clench his fist.</p>
<p>“You know, Hershel…” He took a deep breath. “I <em>really</em> hate you.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?” Layton looked crestfallen. “Whatever for?”</p>
<p>Phoenix rubbed over his face, trying not to linger on his scratchy stubble.</p>
<p>“I would’ve been happy just to stay where I was and do nothing,” he explained. “I honestly wouldn’t have minded one bit if I could just stop, sit back and give up. I was ready, you know? I had all these contingency plans laid out in my head for when I was ready to just…”</p>
<p>He clenched his fist against the carriage wall.</p>
<p>“…just <em>end</em> it.”</p>
<p>He took another deep breath, feeling the buzzing in his body intensify.</p>
<p>“But spending time with you got me all fired up again,” he told Layton. “I don’t want to stop. Not anymore.”</p>
<p>He uncurled his fingers.</p>
<p>“I want to track down the bastard who got me disbarred,” he said, “and I’m going to make him <em>pay</em> for the life he forced me to live.”</p>
<p>He reached into his pocket and ran his fingers over the smooth stone amulet that had been his and the Professor’s saving grace during their time in Fatargan.</p>
<p>“Within legal reason, I hope,” said Layton.</p>
<p>“No, of course!” Phoenix hurriedly replied. “I’m not going to do anything stupid!”</p>
<p>He almost burst out laughing at himself. Look at you, Phoenix Wright, making a fool of yourself in front of one of the most accomplished intellectuals of the 21<sup>st</sup> century.</p>
<p>“But I’m not going to stop,” he reminded his friend. “That’s the important part. Thanks to you, I don’t feel like giving up. I’m sleepy right now, sure, but… but I don’t feel as tired as I was. Not anymore.”</p>
<p>The smile Layton was giving him right now was the most gentle he had ever seen.</p>
<p>“That is a relief,” he sighed.</p>
<p>Phoenix suddenly felt very small.</p>
<p>Very aware that he was alone with a person who had forced him to admit to himself that he wasn’t ready to die just yet, and who’d sat and listened to him pour out everything that had built up in his mind over the past two years even after all the horrible things Phoenix had said to him, all the ways he’d tried to drive him away…</p>
<p>“Hershel, you…” It was getting difficult to talk with this lump hardening in his throat. “…you’ve been so great to me over the past few days. Do you really think I deserved it?”</p>
<p>Layton just continued smiling at him. He didn’t even tip his hat.</p>
<p>“It’s only natural, Phoenix,” he replied. “A good gentleman does anything for a friend in need.”</p>
<p>Phoenix swallowed. His face was getting hotter by the second. Any more of this and his eyes would start watering.</p>
<p>“Would a good gentleman allow me to give him a hug?”</p>
<p>Layton slipped his book into one of his coat pockets.</p>
<p>“He certainly would.”</p>
<p>Phoenix didn’t hold back anymore.</p>
<p>He hugged Layton as tight as he could, relieved to feel the short man hug him back, and he didn’t want to let go, even for a moment, for the rest of his life.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you see?” asked the Professor. “It can seem intimidating from an outside perspective, but taken as a whole, trigonometry may be one of the simpler forms of maths that you’ll learn during the course of your life.”</p>
<p>Alfendi groaned through his teeth.</p>
<p>“So I’ve got even worse to look forward to?” he complained. “Great.”</p>
<p>Mr Layton laughed at his annoyance.</p>
<p>“Now, now, Alfie,” he chuckled, “there’s no need to be dramatic. If you’re still having trouble grasping the concepts, I can share a puzzle I know that would-”</p>
<p>“Please don’t,” Alfendi interjected. If he had to put up with one more goddamn riddle, he was going to call up his case worker and demand to be shipped to a different family.</p>
<p>His foster father just laughed at the tween boy’s exasperation.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he said happily. “If you need help with anything else, don’t be afraid to ask.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Alfendi replied, looking back down at his gruelling worksheet. “I have a feeling that when I get to ‘em, these scalene triangles will be a right old pain in the-”</p>
<p>“Daddy!”</p>
<p>Homework help was cut off mid-cuss by a girl a full eight years younger than Alfendi running into the living room, curly hair bouncing with her footsteps, clutching a pink fluffy book to her chest.</p>
<p>“Kat?” Mr Layton frowned at his five-year-old daughter. “What on earth is the matter?”</p>
<p>Before little Katrielle had a chance to reply, her Uncle Des stepped into the room.</p>
<p>“We have a crisis on our hands,” he stated.</p>
<p>“Oh dear,” Mr Layton said dramatically. “If you’re coming to me for help, then it <em>must</em> be a dire situation.”</p>
<p>There was a movie reference somewhere in there, and Alfendi cursed the Professor for failing to catch it.</p>
<p>“What’s happened?” the Professor asked.</p>
<p>“Kat’s lost the key to her diary,” Uncle Des explained, his mood accurately reflecting Alfendi’s thoughts on his homework.</p>
<p>“I put it in my toy box and I can’t find it anywhere,” Katrielle added squeakily.</p>
<p>“It’s a big box,” Alfendi pointed out. “You don’t think it’s just somewhere at the bottom?”</p>
<p>“We tried!” Katrielle whined.</p>
<p>“Upended the entire thing and we can’t find it anywhere!” Uncle Des complained.</p>
<p>Mr Layton rubbed his chin. Alfendi had learned that he tended to do that whenever he was thinking.</p>
<p>“And you’re sure it didn’t get mixed into one of your Meccano sets?” he asked the man that Alfendi had learned since arriving was yes, definitely the Professor’s actual fully 100% blood-related brother.</p>
<p>“You think I hadn’t considered that?!” Uncle Des’ long hair bristled in anger. “I’ve checked every single one of my sets and we can’t find the damned thing anywhere! I almost dismantled my entire Blackpool Tower replica before I realised it wasn’t in there! And as you can <em>quite</em> plainly see…”</p>
<p>He pointed down at the little girl who was pouting as hard as she could.</p>
<p>“…Kat’s just as much at her wit’s end as I am.”</p>
<p>“Daddy, I want to write in my diary!” Katrielle moaned, and her eyes were visibly watering by now.</p>
<p>“Alright, alright,” said Mr Layton, taking the fluffy book out of her hands. “Kat, why don’t you bring me one of your hair pins?”</p>
<p>Katrielle nodded and ran away, thumping like an elephant in spite of her tiny stature.</p>
<p>“Des,” Mr Layton added, “can you find me something small, thin and sturdy? One of those wool needles from the sewing box should do the trick.”</p>
<p>Uncle Des rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“Aye-aye, captain,” he deadpanned, his long braid swinging to and fro as he turned and departed the living room.</p>
<p>Alfendi frowned. What could a top hat wearing nerd like the Professor possibly accomplish with just a needle and a hair pin?</p>
<p>“Mr Layton?” he said, fiddling with the diary’s heart-shaped lock. “What’re you planning?”</p>
<p>Mr Layton just smiled at him.</p>
<p>“All shall be revealed in good time, Alfendi,” he said, tipping the brim of that amazing hat. “For now, do you need any more help with question 3?”</p>
<p>“No, I think I can handle it,” Alfendi reported, “but if you’re going to try what people usually do with locks and hair pins, I’ll have some fun things to tell Ms Ivy the next time I see her.”</p>
<p>The Professor laughed at his comment.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure it would be wise to tell your case worker about this,” he said. “Unless you want to be moved to a different family, of course.”</p>
<p>Alfendi’s blood ran cold at the thought.</p>
<p>“Keep it to myself,” he decided. “Got it.”</p>
<p>“Daddy!” Katrielle shouted again as she ran back in.</p>
<p>“Ah, good work,” Mr Layton told her, and he took the pin from her outstretched fingers as his brother re-entered behind her. “Des, did you find anything?”</p>
<p>Uncle Des presented him with a thick needle around two and a half inches long with an eye large enough to thread spaghetti.</p>
<p>“If you’re planning what I think you’re planning,” he said, “then you and I have quite an amount of talking to do.”</p>
<p>“All in good time, Des,” said Mr Layton. “All in good time.”</p>
<p>He pulled the journal onto his lap and shoved the needle’s point and the pin’s open end into the tiny keyhole, and Alfendi wished his eyesight could be a thousand times better so that he could see what was going on.</p>
<p>At the very least, his suspicions had been confirmed.</p>
<p>He’d already known there was a lot more to Professor Layton than just a sweet hat and an affinity for tea, but this went beyond the pale.</p>
<p>It was only a matter of seconds before there was a small <em>click</em> and the little padlock popped open.</p>
<p>“There we go!” Mr Layton cheerfully handed the diary back to his delighted daughter. “Your privacy is returned to you, so long as you remember not to close that lock again.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Daddy!” Katrielle hugged the diary to her chest and ran out of the living room as fast as her tiny legs could carry her.</p>
<p>“Just as I suspected,” said Uncle Des, folding his arms and glaring down at the Professor. “And where in the world did <em>you</em> learn to pick locks, Mr Goody-Two-Shoes?”</p>
<p>Mr Layton smiled to himself.</p>
<p>“Well,” he said, “Mr I-Like-to-Wreck-Things-with-Mechanical-Monsters-and-Dress-Up-as-Posh-Ladies-”</p>
<p>“I did that once, Hershel,” Uncle Des snarled as Alfendi couldn’t help but snigger. “ONCE.”</p>
<p>His fury caused Mr Layton to laugh as well.</p>
<p>“It’s rather a long story,” he told the taller man, “but I’d be delighted to tell you once Flora returns from her classes…”</p>
<p>And then he glared at Alfendi.</p>
<p>“…and<em> after</em> Alfie finishes his homework.”</p>
<p>Alfendi rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could and reached for his pen with a groan.</p>
<p>“If this is what having a quote-unquote <em>real family</em> is like, I’d rather be out on the streets,” he grumbled.</p>
<p>“Ha! You say that!” shouted Uncle Des. “But a skinny little thing like you wouldn’t last five minutes without a radiator!”</p>
<p>“I can go into gyms and bus stations,” Alfendi pointed out. “What’re you on about?”</p>
<p>“You’d be surprised how uncomfortable they can get after a while!” Uncle Des complained.</p>
<p>And then he started ranting, complaining on and on about something Alfendi didn’t know about, didn’t <em>want</em> to know about and couldn’t understand even if he was trying to pay attention.</p>
<p>So instead, he paid attention to Mr Layton, who had got up from the sofa and was walking towards his mantlepiece, where he picked up one of the framed photos that sat there and ran his hands over the glass that protected it.</p>
<p>Alfendi squinted to try to get a look. He could just about make out five faces, the Professor’s hat, the most garish cyan <em>thing</em> he had ever seen in his life…</p>
<p>…now he was even more curious about how his foster father had learned to pick a lock.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Mr Wright!” Apollo called over his shoulder. “Are you going to come and help us anytime in the next century?”</p>
<p>“Agh!” His reply was a grunt of pain. “Dammit, Apollo! You distracted me and I almost slit my throat!”</p>
<p>“No, don’t do that!” Apollo yelled back. “That just means even more cleaning!”</p>
<p>And if there was anything he had learned from investigating crime scenes during his time at the Wright Anything Agency, it was that blood was a ridiculously difficult stain to shift once it had been spilled.</p>
<p>“As far as I’m concerned,” his boss called from the office bathroom, “spring cleaning extends to people, alright? I was going to have to shave sooner or later, so why not now?”</p>
<p>Apollo kneeled down to pick up paperwork that had dropped off one of the desks.</p>
<p>“Because you’re using it as an excuse to not tidy up your office?” he grumbled to himself.</p>
<p>“Aw, don’t be a downer, Polly!” he heard Trucy say somewhere behind him. “Look! I just found one of my old wands!”</p>
<p>Careful not to hit his head on the desk, Apollo looked back and saw the teenage magician waving a long black rod for him to see.</p>
<p>“Oh wow, classic white tip,” he commented. “Been a while since I saw one of those in the flesh. Don’t you usually have a gold one?”</p>
<p>Trucy flourished her powder blue hat at him.</p>
<p>“What can I say?” she said proudly. “Troupe Gramarye have always been innovators in the field of magic props!”</p>
<p>Memories of a bloodstained ace flashed through Apollo’s mind.</p>
<p>“So I’ve seen…” he mumbled to himself as he turned back to the spilled paperwork.</p>
<p>Oh jeez, some of it had probably drifted under the desk, hadn’t it?</p>
<p>He looked back at Trucy, checking that she wasn’t turned his way and wouldn’t have a face full of his butt sticking out, before crouching right down and pressing his face against the floor to check under the desk and see if there was any-</p>
<p>-leather case?</p>
<p>He could see its clasps glinting in the dim morning light and its handle tempting him, just begging him to reach out and grab it.</p>
<p>So he did, reaching out with his right hand so he wouldn’t get his bracelet stuck, fumbled until he’d grabbed that handle and pulled the case out from where it had been stashed.</p>
<p>No mistaking that shape. This was a violin case.</p>
<p>“Huh?” he said faintly. “What was this doing under…”</p>
<p>“Apollo?” he heard Trucy say. “What is it? What did you find?”</p>
<p>Apollo got up on one knee and held the case in full view.</p>
<p>“Trucy,” he said, “does your dad play violin?”</p>
<p>Please let that be the case, he mentally begged. Please let this contain a violin and <em>not</em> a machine gun-</p>
<p>“Oh my gosh!” Trucy ran over to him as he rose to his feet. “I haven’t seen this in, like, five years!”</p>
<p>“Seen wh- this case?” asked Apollo. “So you knew about it?”</p>
<p>“Of course!” Trucy replied. “Hang on, let me just check…”</p>
<p>She took the case from his hands and rested it on the desk it had been hidden under, and didn’t struggle one bit to pop open those silver clasps.</p>
<p>“Yes!” she cheered. “It’s still here!”</p>
<p>Apollo nudged her aside so that he could get a better view.</p>
<p>“Wow…” he sighed.</p>
<p>It <em>was</em> a violin, thank goodness, formed from black wood polished to a near-mirror shine. Its silvery strings seemed to glimmer in the morning light, its silver fixtures <em>gleamed</em>…</p>
<p>“This is…” Apollo muttered. “…this is quite an instrument. Where did Mr Wright get something like <em>this?</em>”</p>
<p>“What?” gasped Trucy. “Apollo, didn’t Dad tell you about the Silver Violin?”</p>
<p>Apollo frowned.</p>
<p>“This thing is <em>clearly</em> black,” he pointed out.</p>
<p>“But the strings are silver!” said Trucy, running her fingers over one of the metal threads. “See?”</p>
<p>He did, but that wasn’t what Apollo wanted to focus on.</p>
<p>“Hmm…” He half-closed the case, making sure he could get a good, long look at its lid.</p>
<p>“Dad!” shouted Trucy. “Hey, Daddy! Daddy, come here!”</p>
<p>“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Mr Wright finally came back into the office. “Jeez, who died?”</p>
<p>Apollo looked up to ask his first question, but stopped short when he saw his boss’s face.</p>
<p>His boss’s pristine, fresh, clean-shaven face, unbound by stubble or garish cyan beanie, his hair roughly combed back behind his ears, looking a full ten years younger than he had less than a quarter of an hour ago.</p>
<p>“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t know people had the ability to shave?”</p>
<p>The question slapped Apollo in the face hard enough to make him realise he was staring.</p>
<p>“N-no,” he stammered, “I’m just surprised to see-”</p>
<p>Dammit, that wasn’t what was important right now!</p>
<p>“Ugh, whatever!” he sighed. “Mr Wright, where did <em>this</em> come from?”</p>
<p>“Polly found the Silver Violin!” Trucy peppily explained, and both of them stepped aside so that her dad could see the instrument in all its glory.</p>
<p>“So he did,” he said softly, moving forward so that he could pick up the violin and gently cradle it in his fingers. “Wow, I haven’t seen this thing in ages!”</p>
<p>“<em>OBJECTION!</em>”</p>
<p>“Eek!” squeaked Trucy.</p>
<p>“GYAH!” Mr Wright exclaimed in shock, almost dropping the violin. “Apollo, what have we said about indoor voice?!”</p>
<p>Apollo flushed. That had come out a <em>lot</em> louder than he had expected.</p>
<p>“Um…” He grinned nervously and hoped this wouldn’t get him fired. “Sorry, Mr Wright.”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat, hoping he could clear the air at the same time.</p>
<p>“I know you’re lying when you say you haven’t seen this thing in ‘ages’,” he explained.</p>
<p>“Do you, now?” Mr Wright gave him a look of amusement. “Then how about backing up that claim with some evidence?”</p>
<p>“Easy enough,” Apollo replied. “All I need to show you is this case.”</p>
<p>He flipped down the lid to expose its shining leather cover.</p>
<p>“It was stashed under your desk, but it’s clean as a whistle,” he explained. “Leather is pretty damn stubborn when it comes to holding dust, but this case that you say you haven’t seen in ‘ages’ doesn’t have a single speck to be seen anywhere on its surface.”</p>
<p>He made a show of wiping his finger over the leather, which squeaked under the pressure, and he showed the resulting clean fingertip to his boss.</p>
<p>Mr Wright raised his hands in mock surrender, still holding the violin in one hand.</p>
<p>“Okay, you got me,” he said. “I’ve actually been getting it out about once every few days. Maybe once a week if I’ve been busy.”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Trucy whined in disappointment. “And you never told me? Daddy, how could you?”</p>
<p>She pouted as dramatically as a fifteen-year-old girl possibly could.</p>
<p>“Daddy’s got to have <em>some</em> secrets, Trucy-Goosy,” Mr Wright told her, patting her on top of her hat. “Besides, how was I supposed to wow you with my incredible playing if you heard all the times it was, well, <em>not</em> incredible?”</p>
<p>Apollo frowned again.</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t that just be ‘credible’?” he pointed out.</p>
<p>“Play for us, Dad!” Trucy bounced on her heels. “Please? It’s been forever since I heard you playing!”</p>
<p>“Hey, hold up!” Apollo struggled not to raise his voice too much. “You still haven’t told me where this thing came from! Mr Wright, that violin is WAY too beautiful for you to just have bought it or gotten it from a class! Where the heck did it come from?”</p>
<p>He opened the case again, hoping he could get a clue from its insides.</p>
<p>“Oh my gosh,” Trucy gasped. “Dad, don’t tell me you never told Polly about what happened in Fatargan!”</p>
<p>“Fa-what-now?” asked Apollo.</p>
<p>But before he could ask any further questions, he found something else in the case, tucked into the lid behind the bow.</p>
<p>“Hmm, no,” he heard Mr Wright say. “I didn’t, did I?”</p>
<p>“Okay! Spring cleaning officially cancelled!” Trucy declared. “Apollo, you HAVE to hear about it! There’s so much we can tell you! About the violin and the village and all the people in it and oh my gosh, we <em>have</em> to tell you about-”</p>
<p>“About these guys?” Apollo held up the photograph that had been secured in place by the bow. “Is this what you were talking about?”</p>
<p>Mr Wright smiled when he noticed that photo.</p>
<p>“Yup,” he said. “That’s them.”</p>
<p>“But who the heck are these people?” Apollo looked back at the photo and forced his way through his memory banks, trying to put names to the faces. “I think I recognise you and Trucy, but who’s the other kid? Who’s that short guy with the top hat? And who’s- wait, is that the Chief Prosecutor?! What the heck is HE doing there?”</p>
<p>“It, uh…” Mr Wright pulled the photo from his fingers. “It’s a <em>long</em> story.”</p>
<p>“But Dad, we <em>have</em> to tell Polly everything,” Trucy insisted. “He’s going to love it!”</p>
<p>“Well, NOW you do,” Apollo pointed out. “Now that there’s apparently some long, detailed story behind this violin.”</p>
<p>He looked from that violin to the half-groomed man who held it.</p>
<p>“Although to be honest,” he said, “part of me is even more curious to know if Mr Wright is actually any good…”</p>
<p>“Any good?!” snapped Trucy. “Daddy’s <em>amazing!</em>”</p>
<p>“I don’t know about amazing,” Mr Wright said bashfully.</p>
<p>“Daddy, stop,” said Trucy. “If banishing an entire army of ancient ghosts isn’t amazing, I don’t know what is!”</p>
<p>Apollo stood there, beside the still-open case, letting the words he had just heard wash over his mind.</p>
<p>“Everything you’re saying is just confusing me more,” he said, “and I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t know every single possible detail right goddamn<em> now</em>.”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay!” laughed Mr Wright. “You got me. But first…”</p>
<p>He laid down the photo beside the case, rested the violin in its lining and picked out the bow.</p>
<p>“How about I get you in the mood?” he asked.</p>
<p>Trucy squealed in delight.</p>
<p>The resigned Apollo jumped onto the desk to sit down.</p>
<p>He watched as his boss tightened the bow strings, rubbed it across the solid lump of amber that had come with the case and rested that violin on his shoulder…</p>
<p>…and, with a fond smile the likes of which Apollo had never seen on his stubbly face, Phoenix Wright began to play the Silver Violin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ending art by the wonderful temporalCorvidae!</p>
        </blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419563">The Frigid Melody: Encore</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyMeadows/pseuds/RainyMeadows">RainyMeadows</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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